 | A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England |  |
336
TO CAMILLE.
I will not wish that Rapture's beam,
May ever light that laughing eye;
But, dear Camille, should every gleam
Of youthful pleasure fade and die:
May Faith, with purer, holier power,
Lend thee her light in Sorrow's hour.
May ever light that laughing eye;
But, dear Camille, should every gleam
Of youthful pleasure fade and die:
May Faith, with purer, holier power,
Lend thee her light in Sorrow's hour.
I cannot pray the dimpling glow
Upon thy cheek may ever play:
The prayer were vain—for Care, I know,
Will chase each rosy smile away.
But I do pray, when fades its bloom,
That Love may light it to the tomb.
Upon thy cheek may ever play:
The prayer were vain—for Care, I know,
Will chase each rosy smile away.
But I do pray, when fades its bloom,
That Love may light it to the tomb.
I may not hope thy happy heart,
Will never know Affliction's blight,
But when its radiant dreams depart,
And Hope's fair wings unfurl for flight:
Oh! track the wanderer to the sky,
And rest that wearied heart on high.
Will never know Affliction's blight,
But when its radiant dreams depart,
And Hope's fair wings unfurl for flight:
Oh! track the wanderer to the sky,
And rest that wearied heart on high.
| A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England | |