Plea To - - - - - by Samuel Rogers
To – – – – –


Go—you may call it madness, folly;
You shall not chase my gloom away.
There’s such a charm in melancholy,
I would not, if I could, be gay.

Oh, if you knew the pensive pleasure
That fills my bosom when I sigh,
You would not rob me of a treasure
Monarchs are too poor to buy.