When she with brother often strayed,
O'er hill and dale and flow'ry glade,
Where golden sunbeams lie.
A fair young friend, whose aching heart
Now feels affliction's keenest dart,
Must long in sadness weep;
Her brightest hopes are fled away,
Alas! her sweetest joys decay,
They in the grave must sleep.
Her heart still bleeds at every pore,