15
TO MARY IN HEAVEN.
Thou ling'ring star, with less’ning ray. Than, lov’st to greet the early morn, Again thou usher’st in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. 0 mary, dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear’st thou the groans that rend his breast ?
Chat sacred hour ban I forget! Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love ! Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past,— Thy image at our last embrace ;— Ah ! little thought we ’twas our last!
Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning, green The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twin’d am’rous round the raptur’d scene. The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, The birds giffcj love on every spray, Till too, too soon, the glowing west Proclaim’d the speed of winged day.
Still o’er these scenes my mem’ry wakes. And fondly broods with miser, care : Time but the impression stronger makes. As' streams their channels deeper wear.
