Page:Highland plaid (2).pdf/7

 Thus kindly I scatter thy leaves o'er the bed,

Where thy mates of the garden lye scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow when friendships decay,

And from love's shining circle the gems drop away;

When true hearts are wither'd and fond ones are flown,

O who would inhabit this bleak world alone.

Love's blind, they say,

O never, nay:

Can words Love's grace impart?

The fancy, weak,

The tounge may speak,

But eyes alone th heart.

In one soft look what language lies!

O yes, believe me, Love has eyes.