Leylâ'ya...
Alone, retir’d, beneath some tree
I sigh, and fondly think on thee!
And while I shed the cherish’d tear,
Enamour’d fancy paints thee near,
Leila
By morn’s soft rise, or day’s decline,
For thee my lyre, fond myrtles twine:
The feeling strings then share my flame,
And sweetly warble at thy name,
Leila!
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