Stay near me—do not take thy flight! A little longer stay in sight! Much converse do I find in Thee, Historian of my Infancy! Float near me; do not yet depart! Dead times revive in thee: Thou bring'st, gay Creature as thou art! A solemn image to my heart, My Father's Family!
Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days, The time, when in our childish plays My sister Emmeline and I Together chased the Butterfly! A very hunter did I rush Upon the prey:—with leaps and springs I follow'd on from brake to bush; But She, God love her! feared to brush The dust from off its wings.
Fair river! in thy bright, clear flow Of crystal, wandering water, Thou art an emblem of the glow Of beauty—the unhidden heart— The playful maziness of art In old Alberto’s daughter;
But when within thy wave she looks— Which glistens then, and trembles— Why, then, the prettiest of brooks Her worshipper resembles; For in my heart, as in thy stream, Her image deeply lies— His heart which trembles at the beam Of her soul-searching eyes.