To Miss M.T.R.
Whate’er may be my unknown fate
Upon this dark, terrestrial sphere,
Wilt smile to hear that I am blest,
And o’er my anguish shed thy tear?
Methinks it were a happy lot,
That thou would’st grieve or smile with me;
And though all others prove most false,
I ne’er should find untruth in thee.
Yes! thou wouldst seem some heavenly one
If such thy friendship followed me,
Nor would I cease, through every change,
To crave of Heaven its love for thee.