Impair not love like ours.

Tho' sever'd from each other's sight,
When once we meet we shall unite,
As dew-drops down the lily run,
And, touching, blend in one.

For thee this bosom learnt to grieve,
Another never made it heave;
When present, oh! it was thy throne,
And, absent, thine alone.

Then may my trembling pilgrim feet
In safety find thy lov'd retreat!
And, if I'm doom'd to drop with care,
Still let me perish there!




TO MISS ATKINSON,

ON THE EXTREME DIFFIDENCE WHICH SHE

DISPLAYS TO STRANGERS.


Just as a fawn, in forest shade,
Trembling to meet th' admiring eye,
I've seen thee try to hide, sweet maid!