Laura Sophia Temple


Where wanders the beautiful Maid of my soul?
Where lingers the fair one with tresses of jet?
Behold o'er the vale how the grey-shadows roll,
Behind yon dark cliff the last sun-beam has set.

The star of the Evening in brightness ascends,
And sweet is the breath of the wild-warbling grove,
With the Night-bird the stream its low muttering blends,
And each passing breeze seems to whisper of love.

Ah! where is the fire of my Selima's glance,
The bright flame that plays round my fluttering heart!
Where, where on thy cheek are the warm smiles that dance,
The smiles and the blushes that rapture impart.

Long, long have I watch'd for the fading of day,
And oft have I gaz'd o'er the wide-spreading plain,
With sorrowing eye the still scene I survey,
For ah! she appears not!--I linger in vain.

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