Ah! how Sophia can you leave Your lover and of hope bereave? Go fetch the Indian's borrowed plume, Yet richer far than that you bloom. I'm but a lodger in your heart; And more than me I fear have part.
Ah! how Sophia can you leave Your lover and of hope bereave? Go fetch the Indian's borrowed plume, Yet richer far than that you bloom. I'm but a lodger in your heart; And more than me I fear have part.