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135

MEDORA TO CONRAD.

I

We met, my Conrad!—From that hour
My every thought reflected thee;
If but a cloud did o'er thee lour
Medora prayed its shade might flee.

II

Thou wert my God,—my guide,—my all,—
The lode-star of my waking hours;
Thy voice in ev'ry breeze did call;—
I saw thee in the perfum'd flow'rs.

III

I rear'd an altar to thy name,—
I worshipped at no other shrine;—
Ah! brightly blazed love's lambent flame,
Still, still my heart is wholly thine!