to mary in heaven

thou ling'ring star, with lessening ray,

that lov'st to greet the early morn,

again thou usher'st in the day

my mary from my soul was torn.

o mary! dear departed shade!

where is thy ce of blissful rest?

see'st thou thy lover lowlyid?

hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

that sacred hour can i forget,

can i forget the hallow'd grove,

where, by the winding ayr, we met,

to live one day of parting love!

eternity will not efface

those records dear of transports past,

thy image at ourst embrace,

ah! little thought we 'twas ourst!