Poem by John Cunningham

Clarinda

CLARINDA'S lips I fondly press'd,
While rapture fill'd each vein;
And as I touch'd her downy breast,
Its tenant slept serene.

So soft a calm, in such a part,
Betrays a peaceful mind;
Whilst my uneasy, fluttering heart,
Would scarcely be confin'd.

A stubborn oak the shepherd sees,
Unmov'd, when storms descend;
But, ah! to every sporting breeze,
The myrtle bough must bend.

1. On Gold
2. On a Certain Alderman
3. Palemon
4. Anacreon: Ode 36
5. The Broken China

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