Written in an Album Thou tiny leaf, Thou art so small, so very small, I must be brief, If I would sully thee at all, With aught that from my pen may fall! Then haste from me; Go quick to Caroline, and show My wish, that she O'er no rude spot of earth, may go, Small as thyself, where thorns shall grow;— That there may be No cloud so broad in all her sky 'T would shadow thee; Nor pain nor sorrow e'er come nigh To blanch her cheek, or dim her eye:— That I may claim What she on memory may bestow In friendship's name— A smile, or tear, as joy or wo Shall mark the path where I may go! |
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