To D——

1.

In thee, I fondly hop'd to clasp
⁠A friend, whom death alone could sever;
Till envy, with malignant grasp,
⁠Detach'd thee from my breast for ever.

2.

True, she has forc'd thee from my breast,
⁠Yet, in my heart thou keep'st thy seat;
There, there, thine image still must rest,
⁠Until that heart shall cease to beat.

3.

And, when the grave restores her dead,
⁠When life again to dust is given,
On thy dear breast I'll lay my head—
⁠Without thee! where would be my Heaven?