On thy dear breast I'll lay my head,

Without thee! where would be my Heaven?

February, 1803.

TO ——

Think'st thou I saw thy beauteous eyes,

Suffus'd in tears implore to stay;

And heard unmov'd, thy plenteous sighs,

Which said far more than words could say.

Though deep the grief, thy tears exprest,

When love, and hope, lay both o'erthrown,

Yet still, my girl, this bleeding breast,

Throbb'd with deep sorrow, as thine own.

But when our cheeks with anguish glow'd,

When thy sweet lips where join'd to mine;

The tears that from my eye-lids flow'd,

Were lost in those which fell from thine.

Thou could'st not feel my burning cheek,

Thy gushing tears had quench'd its flame,

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And as thy tongue essay'd to speak,

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