Page:1808 Poems by Felicia Dorothea Browne.pdf/117



And are we ever doom'd to mourn, That e'en our joys may lead to pain? Alas! the rose without a thorn We seek in vain.

When friends endear'd by absence meet, Their hours are crown'd with every treasure; Too soon the happy moments fleet On wings of pleasure.

But when the parting hour is nigh, What feeling breast their woes can tell? With many a prayer and tender sigh They bid farewell.

Yet Hope may charm their grief away, And pour her sweet enchanting strain, That friends belov'd—some future day, Shall meet again.

Her aid the fair deceiver lends, To dry the tears which sadly fell; And calm the sorrow which attends The last farewell.