Of one, whose tears—where each endears
The more the heart that wept—
From swimming lid in silence slid,
And on her bosom slept.
A blue-eyed child, with glee half wild,
In infant beauty’s beams,
And lock that rolled, in waving gold,
Came glancing through my dreams.
Farewell to thee, my camping-tree;
Till life’s last visions gleam,