SELF-DECEIT

 My neighbour's curtain, well I see,

Is moving to and fin.

No doubt she's list'ning eagerly,

If I'm at home or no.


And if the jealous grudge I bore

And openly confess'd,
Is nourish'd by me as before,

Within my inmost breast.


Alas! no fancies such as these

E'er cross'd the dear child's thoughts.

I see 'tis but the ev'ning breeze

That with the curtain sports.


1803.

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