To Mary

Come turn with me, and gaze on that fair moon !-
"Her beams must fade, and we be parted soon !"
How beautifully soft her temper'd rays!
And tender as the, "light of other days,"
Which breaks o'er mem'ry's musings, when alone
The soul reviews life's sweetest moments flown.
She seems, in that far sky, like some bright mind,
High, in its native purity, enshrin'd
Above this world-and looking calmly down
On earth, unmindful of its smile or frown!-