With glowing hues, can pleasure give.
The lonely heart no pleasure knows,
Pleasure can never be my lot;
To Emma still my heart will turn,
And fondly ask, “Is all forgot.”
The sister vows, the swift-wing’d hours,
Illum’d by friendship’s brightest beam;
When fancy cull’d her fairest flowers,
And Emma ever was my theme.
Are all forgot!——oblivion throws