Poem by Anne Hunter

Song 6. IN airy dreams fond fancy flies

IN airy dreams fond fancy flies,
My absent love to see,
And with the early dawn I rise,
Dear youth, to think of thee.

How swiftly flew the rosy hours,
When hope and love were new;
Sweet was the time, as op'ning flowers,
But, ah! 'twas transient too.
The moments now move slowly on,
Until thy wish'd return;
I count them, pensive and alone,
As in the shades I mourn.
Return, return, my love, and charm
Each anxious care to rest;
Thy voice shall every doubt disarm,
And sooth my troubled breast.

1. The Lamentation of Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots
2. Epitaph for My Father
3. Addressed to Mrs. G.
4. A Ballad of the Eighteenth Century
5. Sonnet after the Death of Laura

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