47
TO A YOUNG LADY.
November, 1825.
Ah! gentle Stranger, the sad cause of grief,
That banishes, resistless, all relief,
And dooms a hapless being to complain
Of deep, incessantly afflictive pain,
Is stern Disease, whose blighting hand is pressed
On the warm current of a youthful breast;
With its worst evils lastingly combined
To damp the ardor of a dawning mind.
That banishes, resistless, all relief,
And dooms a hapless being to complain
Of deep, incessantly afflictive pain,
Is stern Disease, whose blighting hand is pressed
On the warm current of a youthful breast;
With its worst evils lastingly combined
To damp the ardor of a dawning mind.
The endearing sweets of life I must forego,
And youthful pleasures never more can know;
Ne'er hail again with joy the roseate morn,
When its soft fragrance on the breeze is borne;
When opening flowers, in brightly painted bloom,
Fill the pure air with balmy, sweet perfume;
When the soft tints of varying light unfold,
In deeper crimson and in richer gold;
When glowing blushes, on the azure bright,
And on the fleecy, flying clouds, alight;
When gentle music floats along the sky,
As o'er the soft cerulean wildly fly
Sweet strains of joyous, artless melody.
And youthful pleasures never more can know;
Ne'er hail again with joy the roseate morn,
When its soft fragrance on the breeze is borne;
When opening flowers, in brightly painted bloom,
Fill the pure air with balmy, sweet perfume;
When the soft tints of varying light unfold,
In deeper crimson and in richer gold;
When glowing blushes, on the azure bright,
And on the fleecy, flying clouds, alight;
When gentle music floats along the sky,
As o'er the soft cerulean wildly fly
Sweet strains of joyous, artless melody.
I wandered, once, in happy, careless ease,
Where various circling beauties gayly please;
Where various circling beauties gayly please;
