Classic Poem

I.

So pure, so fond, so tenderly,
Hath Love thy heart to me resign'd,
And taught those eyes to smile on me,
That late no resting place could find.
Say, did they ceaseless wander on
To watch if mine would also stray;
Did those cheeks each form smile upon,
To try if mine were false as they?

II.

No form could tempt my eye to rove,
Though lustrous it might beam on mine;
No heart awake my soul to love,
But one so fond, so pure, as thine.
Afric's " Love bird , " that ever dies,
When Death's hand chills its faithful mate,
And scorns to waste a life in sighs —
Sweet Love, 's — an emblem of my fate.