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118
poems.
TO THE MEMORY OF A NEAR AND DEAR FRIEND. "Very pleasant hast thou been unto me." Holy Writ.
I little thought, when last we met,
How soon life's brilliant star would set;
How soon thy eye's unclouded light
Would lose its beams in death's dark night.
But, ah! that meeting was our last;
Our sad farewells on earth are past.

I saw thee last when health beamed high
From rosy cheek and laughing eye.
Yet once again: but death had hushed
The harp whence love's sweet tones had gushed.
That altered strain!—ah! who can tell
The blight that on my spirit fell?

Yes! bright and blest one! thou hast fled;
The moon shines o'er thy peaceful head;
Fled like a dear but vanished dream,
The meteor's fitful, flashing gleam;
Fled like the morning's pearly dew,
Or the pure floweret's fading hue.

How sweet, when o'er my stricken soul
The blight of Time's sad changes stole,
On thy firm, faithful love to rest,
My solace when by care opprest!