One final friendly glance as pilgrims part,
Ere softly shuts past me the orchard gate.
For love, a true companion's sign, I thank,
My gladsome heart exposed to happy fate.
Advice just she has given me through life,
All gain is hers if I the good obey,
If tender hearts bewail the rashly split,
If hopes of worldly man with me then fade.
In sweetest sentiment the child's strength fails,
As Sunday's child stepped in his seventh spring,
And love's young bosom touch'd with lightest hand,
Each past enrich'd by female grace shall sing.
A mother's kiss deblurs a darling's sleep,
As he first sees and understands her still;
So too through love the world I first would learn,
Myself learn, and become what lovers will.
What hitherto a game of youth had been,
Soon turn'd to serious sense; she left me not,
As doubt and care conspir'd in our divide,
At last came education's end, unsought.
When fate of me a lover made, both free
And certain of an endless joy in me.