To Miss Barton. Poem by Susan Evance

WERE Hope's prophetic eye to close,
And Faith no longer see
Beyond this dreary scene of woes.
A blest eternity;

O could I think, that Friendship's flow'r,
Not half expanded here,
Would wither with Life's little hour,
Nor there matur'd appear;

Then, dear Maria! as I dwell
In mournful thought on thee,
Despair these tears of grief would swell
To tears of agony.

I trust one day the scene to greet
Where, all our sorrows o'er,
In union fond our souls shall meet,
And meet to part no more.

But here that gentle form of thine
I never more shall view;
Thy last farewell of love is mine-
Maria! oh- adieu.

Prepar'd as thou art to depart,
I should not wish thy stay;
Be still, my weak, my throbbing heart!
Ye tears- away, away.