University of Virginia Library


137

SONGS.


159

SWEET AS A ROSE.

Sweet as a rose in Morning's tear!
I feel my heart is thine, Mary;
But though I could be now sincere,
Thou never canst be mine, Mary.
My soul, though formed for raptures high,
Hath sunk in Passion's storm, Mary;
And 'twere a crime in such as I
To clasp an Angel's form, Mary.
And all my views are wrapped in gloom,
No sunbeam shines on me, Mary,
Thy smile could give them light and bloom,
But that were woe to thee, Mary.

160

No! let me suffer—'tis my fate—
Unwept by mortal eye, Mary;
But O! be thine the happiest state
Beneath the calmest sky, Mary!
Then, on the clouds that dim my day,
One thought, to cheer my breast, Mary,
Shall softly shed its rainbow-ray—
The thought that thou art blest, Mary!

169

TALK ON—EACH FAULT.

Talk on—each fault in Mary blame,
That Hate can think, or Envy frame;
Speak of her beauty and her fame,
Whate'er you say, I'll love her!
I look but on her cheek and eye—
They give your base remarks the lie;
How pure the glance! how fine the dye!
By all that's fair, I love her!
Arouse my pride: she spurns my prayer,
For one, perchance, less worth her care;
Her presence melts that pride to air—
I see her, and I love her!