To Miss M.t.r

Whate'er may be my unknown fate Upon this dark, terrestrial sphere, Wilt smile to hear that I am blest, And o'er my anguish shed thy tear?

Methinks it were a happy lot, That thou would'st grieve or smile with me; And though all others prove most false, I ne'er should find untruth in thee.

Yes! thou wouldst seem some heavenly one If such thy friendship followed me, Nor would I cease, through every change, To crave of Heaven its love for thee.