Laura Sophia Temple

The Search after Love

I read of the gay smile of Love,
    I hear of its mischievous flame,
But vainly my fancy has strove
    To believe in the fabulous name.

I question my infidel breast,
    Yet spy not a trace of it there,
As yet every pulse is at rest,
    Unknown to the throbbings of care.

I gaze on the warm-beaming light,
    Of Beauty's all-conquering eye;
I gaze,--but the frenzying sight
    Ne'er wakes in my bosom a sigh.

I muse on the murdering smile
    Of youth's deep and varying rose,
But vainly it strives to beguile,
    Or ruin my reason's repose:

And vain are the efforts of wit
    To make me experience a smart;
My brain for a moment is smit,
    But I find not a sting in my heart.