On you I think, while lingering far away
From all I love, till streams the eye with tears,--
The fields are full of life--the groves are gay
And green!--and Spring in all her charms appears.

On you I think! when, by the silent shore,
Memory recalls whate'er was dear to me!
As shuddering I stray, where moonbeams hoar
Scatter their silvery light o'er sand and sea.

On you I think, when, where the alders fringe
The stream, I view their shadows pictured fair,
I gaze on clouds that evening colurs tinge,
And the heart whispers, shall I meet you there?

On yoy I think!--unloved, abandoned, lone,
'Mong dreary scenes that cannot give relief,--
And when, at evening gray, in proud saloon
I mourn, and worldlings dream not of my grief!