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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,
And her together.
A springy motion in her gait,
That flush'd her spirit.
I know not by what name beside
She did inherit.
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,
Ye could not Hester.
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
the day, A bliss that would not go away,
A sweet fore-warning?
TO CHARLES LLOYD,
An Unexpected Visitor.
ALONE, obscure, without a friend,
A cheerless, solitary thing, Why seeks, my Lloyd, the stranger out?
What offering can the stranger bring
Of social scenes, home-bred delights,
That him in aught compensate may For Stowey's pleasant winter nights,
For loves and friendships far away?
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.