When neath the sod our mould’ring bones are sleeping,
O! may sorrow mark the spot,
And love forget it not,
But still around our graves, be hallow’d vigils keeping.
Arround our current gay, blooms each fav’ring gift of heaven,
And love enchanting smiles,
But beware of cupid’s wiles,—
He shades with hues of death life’s fast approaching even.
O, may our frail bark, through smoothest seas be steering;
As yon moon’s pale placid beam,
Be our love a happy dream,
And each day our kindred spirits endearing.
ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND.
Dark night has enfolded her mantle around me,
And the brightness of day to oblivion consign’d
No more the wild influence of passions confound me,
They have fled, and tranquility reigns o’er my mind.
All nature reposed, at this moment is sleeping,
And man has forgotten the turmoils of care,
Ev’n mem’ry, entranced, o’er past happiness weeping,
In the “semblance of death” imaged raptures may share.
Calm solitude’s power o’er my bosom is stealing,
In whispers of peace, its monition addres’t,
Arouses each pure spark of genuine feeling,
Allays every passion that ruffled my breast:
To the bright climes of fancy, where flowers ever blossom,
On the wild wing of thought, I would hurry my flight,
Shake off every sorrow that weighs on my bosom,
And roam with pure spirits in regions of light.
Indulging each sweet intelectual pleasure,
That fancy’s bright dream, upon man can bestow,
Could I taste of the joy, in its rapturous measure,
Without you to share it? believe me ah no!