To
Beloved of my heart—O! never deem me
So base as to part with my constancy,
For I'd rather for ever be chain'd to despair
Than cease to adore thee, thou exquisite fair;—
To me thou hast been and ever shalt be
The chief of my soul's idolatry.
Tho' years glide away, and I see thee not,
Thine image with me shall be never forgot.
Tho' many there are whose vows have been plighted,—
Who've shrunk from the flower their falsehood blighted,
O! think not that I so accursed would be
As to win thy love, then fly from thee!
For, as gloom is dispell'd when vanisheth night,
And all nature looks gay in the sun's young light,
So I, when my heart is with sorrow opprest,
In the sun of thy smiles feel truly-blest!
So base as to part with my constancy,
For I'd rather for ever be chain'd to despair
Than cease to adore thee, thou exquisite fair;—
To me thou hast been and ever shalt be
The chief of my soul's idolatry.
Tho' years glide away, and I see thee not,
Thine image with me shall be never forgot.
Tho' many there are whose vows have been plighted,—
Who've shrunk from the flower their falsehood blighted,
O! think not that I so accursed would be
As to win thy love, then fly from thee!
For, as gloom is dispell'd when vanisheth night,
And all nature looks gay in the sun's young light,
So I, when my heart is with sorrow opprest,
In the sun of thy smiles feel truly-blest!
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