|
To Miss H. P. R.....
Time doth glide to Beauty's bower,
with a thief's intent and a monarch's power,
The frosted trees and the faded rose,
And the furrowed brow, his deeds discloses. -
From the sparkling eye, its diamond ray,
And the lip its ruby, he beareth away.
But a casket there is, which he viewed in vain,
With an eagles glance, and a miser's pain, -
He gazes long at its golden key,
Spoilers away, it may not be,
Tis' the wrath of the soul, and bound for that shore,
Where then and thy wrecks shall be known no more.
signed "The Stranger October 4th, 1842" |
|
|
