Thee I love! then heed my cry!
My offering place in hands of the Most High.
Could Móo in far off days forget that prayer?
Ah no! for as it died upon the air
A messenger appeared; his words sought vent—
Ill tidings had to him their fleetness lent.
Poor human heart! that blenches, quivers, shrinks,
Appalled at fatal stroke that swift unlinks
Two lives attuned to one harmonious breath.
O loving heart! thy cruel foe is Death.