By your brow which beauty brightneth,
By those tones, where music swells,
By that soul whose lustre shineth
From those wild eyes liquid cell,
Love not - or deeply love.
Trust not lightly fond words spoken,
Trust not soon affections smile;
Many a heart hath thus been broken
Cheated by the tempting guile
As thou mayst sadly prove.
Pour not forth affections gushing
T'ill thou seest the proferred cup
Lest that earth, thy spirits crushing
Drink its waters up
And they, swell not again.
Trust thou not impassioned glances,
Oft times false as bright are they.
O'er the marsh, the meteor dances
Thus to lure and thus betray
To gloom and grief and pain.
signed "Wm F S / Baltimore Sept 30, 1842"