Affection's meek, assuasive tongue,
Had sweet, but most capricious sounds.
Once, wild with scornful pride, she fled,
And only turn'd to seek the dead!
Oh! from a garden of delight,
What fair memento did I bring!
What amaranth of colours bright,
To mark the promise of my spring?
Behold this flow'r! its leaves are wet,
With tears of lasting, vain regret!