We hope, ere long, to die---to rise, like him,
To join with transport his celestial flight,
Again to meet him in those realms of light
Where widow’d friendship ceases to deplore,
Affection feels the parting pang no more,
Hush’d is the sigh of grief—the groan of pain,
And Virtue dwells with Joy in everlasting reign.
A Lady having received a Bouquet from a Boy,
sent him the following Verses.
Next your dear image in my breast,