Hours there were to memory dearer
Than the Sun bright gleam'd of day,
Friends were fonder hopes were dearer
Now alas they're fled away.
Oh! 'twas when the moon beams playing
Green the valleys silent grove
Told the lone sweet hour for straying
With my fond my faithful love.

Oft when evening faded mildly
O'er the wave and bank would rove
When we heard the night bird mildly
Sing his vesper tale of love.
Songs like those my love would sing me
Sounds that warble round me yet,
Ah! but why should memory bring me
Sounds like those I must forget.

Yet in dreams let love be near me
With the joys that bloom'd before
Slumbring then t'will sweetly cheer me
Calm to llive my pleasures o'er.
Then perhaps some hope will waken,
In this heart opprest with care:
And like flowers in vale forsaken
Bloom in lonely beauty there.

                November 1830