My dreams have boded all too right,

We part, forever part- tonight.

I knew, I knew it could not last,

'Twas bright, 'twas heavenly, but 'tis past.

Oh!  ever thus from childhood's hour,

I've seen my fondest hopes decay-

I never lov'd a tree, nor flower,

But 'twas the first to fade away.

I never nurs'd a dear gazelle,

And lov'd it for its soft black eye,

But when it came to know me well,

And love me- it was sure to die.

Now too the joy most like divine,

Of all I ever dreamed or knew;

To see thee- hear thee- call thee mine-

O misery, must I lose that too?

But go- on perils brink we must-

That frightful rock, that treacherous sea-

No never come again though sweet-

Though heaven it may be death to thee.

                                                            Moore.

_________________________

The man who is ashamed of being poor, would be friend

if he were rich.