TO ONE UNKNOWN.
69
Why may I not, dear angel true,
Entreat from thee my rightful due,
Just one delightful interview?
So long I've pondered o'er
What ever led thee to commence,
Without the slightest recompense,
A course of true beneficence
At my unworthy door.
Entreat from thee my rightful due,
Just one delightful interview?
So long I've pondered o'er
What ever led thee to commence,
Without the slightest recompense,
A course of true beneficence
At my unworthy door.
Assured of thy sincere regard,
I should be happy, were life marred
By Fortune's buffets, rude and hard:
Be blest were I untaught,
Obscure, devoid of courtesy,
To win from one I know must be
All goodness and urbanity
So oft a friendly thought.
I should be happy, were life marred
By Fortune's buffets, rude and hard:
Be blest were I untaught,
Obscure, devoid of courtesy,
To win from one I know must be
All goodness and urbanity
So oft a friendly thought.
I've sketched thee, often and again,
Upon the tablet of my brain,
And there the picture must remain
As long as life shall last.
For Mem'ry's hand, though thou art gone,
Shall kindly, ever and anon,
Bring back the image, fancy drawn,
When fleeting years have passed.
Upon the tablet of my brain,
And there the picture must remain
As long as life shall last.
For Mem'ry's hand, though thou art gone,
Shall kindly, ever and anon,
Bring back the image, fancy drawn,
When fleeting years have passed.
