When first by gentle Ouse I stray’d
Two crimson cheeks my fancy sway’d
But now of flaming read afraid,
The nymph I love is Brown:
For brown alike in light or shade
Of red or white disdains the aid
Yet while by gentle Ouse I strayed
The fairest maid was Brown.
In dark the fairest primrose lies
The summer bud’s vermilion flies
But time which dims the rarest dyes
Improves the worth of Brown:
For far-fam’d red the soldier sighs
The sailor asks an azure prize,
But brown delights a lover’s eyes
His brightest thought is Brown.
In German Letters supposed to be Thief.