Written in an Album

As stainless thought my hand should write,
Upon this page of spotless white;
Nor would I that thy falling tear
Should blot the wish recorded here.

Oh, like the rose which opens here,
The earliest of the vernal year,
May Mary’s bloom enchant the day,
And bless the Minstrel’s votive lay.

But when the envious, Boreal wind,
Shall leave his Northern cave behind,
And seek to sieze thy beauteous bloom
To deck his dark and dreary tomb:

May some kind angel swiftly fly,
And leave the region of the sky,
Transplant thee to a clime where ne’er
Sad winter mars the blooming year.