ON A DEPARTURE.

Perhaps the youth who seemed so cold
In leaving thee so soon, to seek
Scenes where he will no more behold
Thy lustrous eye and smiling cheek,
Yet loved thee much,—the hope to meet
Once more, makes ev'n departure sweet.

It is not possible that one
Like him considerate—Love forbid!
Thinking he knew thee, could have known,
Enchanted mortal, what he did,
When he empowered thee thus to weave
His joy and grief the self-same eve.

He took perhaps the readiest way
He could have done thy worth to know;
From thy fine face and finer play
Of wit he could not, could not go,
And seeing thee but once, remain
Content to see thee ne'er again.