M — K —, ESQ.
(Written in her fifteenth year)

And can my simple harp be strung
To higher theme, to nobler end,
Than that of gratitude to thee,
To thee, my father and my friend?

I may not, cannot, will not say
All that a grateful heart would breathe;
But I may frame a simple lay,
Nor Slander blight the blushing wreath.

Yes, I will touch the string to thee,
Nor fear its wildness will offend;
For well I know that thou wilt be,
What thou hast ever been — a friend.

There are, whose cold and idle gaze
Would freeze the current where it flows;
But Gratitude shall guard the fount,
And Faith shall light it as it flows.

Then tell me, may I dare to twine,
While o'er my simple harp I bend,
This little offering for thee,
For thee, my father, and my friend?