Unworthy though I am to claim
Remembrance fond of one like thee,
Yet on this page I trace my name,
That thou may'st sometimes think of me.

Tho' many, worthier far, have placed
The tributes of their Friendship here,
Thou wilt not deem the page disgraced
By one who holds thee very dear.

'Midst many a gay and splendid flower,
The Violet sweetness still can breathe ;-
And thus be this, tho' slight its power,
The Violet' in Affection's wreath.

Mary ! I soon shall be afar ;-
Perhaps this meeting is our last ;
But be our love like evening's star,
Smiling when life's bright day is past.

And when my life has pass'd its prime,
Then will dear thoughts of thine and thee
Come floating on the waves of time,
Like flowers thrown o'er a troubled sea.

'Tis well that I should write this now; -
What might it be in future years ?
Then I, bow'd down by earthly woe,
Might stain the spotless page with tears.

And these weak lines, that are but now
Affection's tribute ere we part,
Might then, wrung forth by sorrow, flow -
The life-drops from a bleeding heart.

But we will turn from such sad themes,
And fly to those more fit for youth,
Although they be but morning dreams
To fade before the light of truth.

Then thou wilt not this lay despise; -
Here thou in future years may'st see
My name ;- and when it meets thine eyes,
Mary ! thou wilt remember me !