Thus, Mary, when afar from thee, amid
The unloving and unloved I muse of thee,
And sing and love thee still, and cannot wish
The thought of thee a moment from my soul.
Thou art the friend whom I would ever have
Dwell by my soul in absence and when nigh.
Thou art the friend whom I would have be still,
The loved and guardian angel of my path,
Amid the mazes of a treacherous world.
Thou art the friend, with whom in smiling peace