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Go! bind it on thy daughter's brow, in her thou'lt still look

fair'Twere well would all learn wisdom who behold the first gray



I NEVER was a favourite,

My mother never smiled
On me, with half the tenderness

That blessed her fairer child :
I've seen her kiss my sister's cheek,

While fondled on her knee;
I've turned away, to hide my tears,

There was no kiss for me!

And yet I strove to please with all

My little store of sense;
I strove to please,—and infancy

Can rarely give offence:
But when my artless efforts met

A cold, ungentle check,
I did not dare to throw myself

In tears upon her neck!

How blessed are the beautiful !

Love watches o'er their birth;
Oh, beauty! in my nursery

I learned to know thy worth :
For even there I often felt

Forsaken and forlorn;
And wished for others wished it too-

I never had been born!

I'm sure I was affectionate;

But in my sister's face
There was a look of love, that claimed

A smile or an embrace:
But when I raised my lip to meet

The pressure children prize,
None knew the feelings of my heart,-

They spoke not in my eyes.

But, oh! that heart too keenly felt

The anguish of neglect; I saw my sister's lovely form

With gems and roses decked: I did not covet them; but oft,

When wantonly reproved, I envied her the privilege

Of being so beloved.

But soon a time of triumph came,

A time of sorrow too;
For sickness o'er my sister's form

Her venomed mantle threw;
The features, once so beautiful,

Now wore the hue of death; And former friends shrank fearfully

From her infectious breath.

'Twas then, unwearied day and night,

I watched beside her bed; And fearlessly upon my breast

I pillowed her poor head. She lived !-and loved me for my care,

My grief was at an end; I was a lonely being once,

But now I have a friend.


They say we are too young to love,

Too wild to be united ;
In scorn they bid us both renounce

The fond vows we have plighted.
They send thee forth to see the world,

Thy love by absence trying :
Then go; for I can smile farewell,-

Upon thy truth relying.

I know that Pleasure's hand will throw

Her silken nets about thee;
I know how lonesome I shall find

The long, long days without thee.
But in thy letters there'll be joy ;

The reading,—the replying: I'll kiss each word that's traced by thee,

Upon thy truth relying.

When friends applaud thee, I'll sit by,

In silent rapture gazing ;
And, oh! how proud of being loved

By her they have been praising!
But should Detraction breathe thy name,

The world's reproof defying: I'd love thee,-laud thee,-trust thee still,

Upon thy truth relying.

E'en those who smile to see us part,

Shall see us meet with wonder ; Such trials only make the heart

That truly loves grow fonder.

Our sorrows past shall be our pride,

When with each other vying: Thou wilt confide in him, who lives

Upon thy truth relying.


Oh say not 'twere a keener blow,

To lose a child of riper years, You cannot know a father's wo

You cannot dry a father's tears;
The girl who rears a sickly plant,

Or cherishes a wounded dove,
Will love them most while most they want

The watchfulness of love !

Time must have changed that fair young brow,

Time might have changed that spotless heart; Years might have brought deceit,—but now

In love's confiding dawn we part ! Ere pain and grief had sown decay,

My babe is cradled in the tomb,Like some fair blossom torn away

In all its purest bloom.


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