A tender heart, a loyal mind, 30
Which with temptation I would trust,
Yet never linked with error find,—
One in whose gentle bosom I
Could pour my secret heart of woes,
Like the care-burthened honey-fly 35
That hides his murmurs in the rose,—
My earthly comforter! whose love
So indefeasible might be
That, when my spirit wonned above,