Laura Sophia Temple

The Inconstant

You ask me, my heavenly Maid!
Why my fancy is thus prone to wander,
    Why the vows that to you once were paid
Are now given alone to Cassandra.

    Go question the gay-humming bee
Why from blossom to blossom it ranges;
    Go ask it why faithless like me,
With the swift passing moment it changes.

    Or catch the light wings of the wind,
That make in the grove such a rumpas,
    Go ask how they dare unconfin'd,
Blow from each diff'rent point of the compass.

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