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Written beneath a Picture.
DEAR object of defeated care!
Though now of Love and thee bereft,
To reconcile me with despair
Thine image and my tears are left.
The kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left,
Shall never part from mine,
Untainted back to thine.
Thy parting glance, which fondly beams,
An equal love may see: The tear that from thine eyelid streams
Can weep no change in me.
I ask no pledge to make me blest
In gazing when alone;
Whose thoughts are all thine own.
Nor need I write to tell the tale
My pen were doubly weak:
Oh! what can idle words avail,
Unless the heart could speak?