POEMS. HESTER. WHEN maidens such as Hester die, Their place ye may not well supply, Though ye among a thousand try, With vain endeavour. A month or more hath she been dead, To think upon the wormy bed, A springy motion in her gait, Of pride and joy no common rate, I know not by what name beside Her parents held the Quaker rule, Which doth the human feeling cool, But she was train'd in Nature's school, Nature had blest her. A waking eye, a prying mind, My sprightly neighbour, gone before To that unknown and silent shore, Shall we not meet, as heretofore, Some summer morning, When from thy chearful eyes a ray TO CHARLES LLOYD, An Unexpected Visitor. ALONE, obscure, without a friend, Why seeks, my Lloyd, the stranger out? Of social scenes, home-bred delights, In brief oblivion to forego Friends, such as thine, so justly dear, And be awhile with me content To stay, a kindly loiterer, here: For this a gleam of random joy Hath flush'd my unaccustom'd cheek; And, with an o'er-charg'd bursting heart, I feel the thanks I cannot speak. |