University of Virginia Library


40

TO EMILY B---.

Dear Girl! an angel sure thou art—
The muse of every spell
Which brings one transport to my heart,
And bids my bosom swell.
‘And oh! carnation on thy cheek
Its richest lustre lends;
And thy blue eyes forever speak
A welcome to thy friends.
Alas! if fate should bid us part,
Life would be naught with me;
A load would rest upon my heart,
Without a smile from thee.
‘Where shall I meet a leaf so fair
In Nature's open page?
With thee the beauteous flower compare,
And e'en my grief assuage?
‘Forgive, my love, this hasty lay,
And let its numbers be
Sweet monitors that day by day,
Shall bid thee think of me!’