On a Rejected Nosegay

Offered by the author to a beautiful young lady, who returned it

What! then you won't accept it, wont you? Oh!
No matter; pshaw! my heart is breaking, though.
My bouquet is rejected; let it be:
For what am I to you, or you to me?
'Tis true I once had hoped; but now, alas!
Well, well; 'tis over now, and let it pass.
I was a fool--perchance I am so still;
You won't accept it! Let me dream you will:
But that were idle. Shall we meet again?
Why should we? Water for my burning brain?
I could have loved thee--Could! I love thee yet
Can only Lethe teach me to forget?
Oblivion's balm, oh tell me where to find!
Is it a tenant of the anguish'd mind?
Or is it?--ha! at last I see it come;
Waiter! a bottle of your oldest rum.

-THE END-
's poem: On a Rejected Nosegay

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