The Imaginary Kiss

When Fanny I saw as she tript o'er the green,

Fair, blooming, soft, artless and kind;

Fond love in her eyes, wit and sense in her mien,

And warmness with modesty join'd:

Transported with sudden amazement I stood,

Fast riveted down to the place;

Her delicate shape, easy motion I view'd,

And wander'd o'er every grace.

Ye gods! what luxuriance of beauty, I cry,

What raptures must dwell in her arms!

On her lips I could feast, on her breast I could die,

O Fanny, how sweet are thy charms!

Whilst thus in idea my passion I fed,

Soft transport my senses invade,

Young Damon step'd up, with the substance he fled,

And left me to kiss the dear shade.