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WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM.
As o'er the cold sepulchral stone
Some name arrests the passer-by; Thus, when thou view'st this page alone, May mine attract thy pensive eye!
And when by thee that name is read,
And think my heart is buried here.
September 14th, 1809.
OH Lady! when I left the shore,
I view my parting hour with dread.
All charms which heedless hearts can move, Whom but to see is to admire,
And, oh! forgive the word—to love.
Forgive the word, in one who ne'er
With such a word can more offend; And since thy heart I cannot share, Believe me, what I am, thy friend. And who so cold as look on thee,
Thou lovely wand'rer, and be less? Nor be, what man should ever be,
The friend of Beauty in distress?