Oh, what a hopeless wretch this man must be!
His very soul weeps tears of agony.
Dying he owns there is a God above,
A God of Justice, tho’ a Prince of Love.
1820. E. P. K.
WRITTEN IN A FRIEND’S ALBUM.
Trust not Hope’s illusive ray,
Trust not Joy’s deceitful smiles;
Oft they reckless youth betray