BY MISS L. E. LANDON.
Yes! sweet letter, I will keep thee
Years—alas! it may be years;
Midnight's lonely hour shall steep thee
With the tenderest, truest tears.
’T is his last—his farewell letter,
Doomed 'mid distant lands to rove;
He may find a brighter, better,
Never a more faithful love.
Yet to such vain fear replying,
When the days pass long and lone;
Still my heart, on his relying,
For his truth will pledge its own.
Ah! the love from childhood cherished
Links a sweet and household tie;
If such old affection perished,
All life's early hopes must die.