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She who first charm'd my soul to love,

Inspired the tuneful breath ;
With love-instructed hand I wove

For her the early wreath.

To her the softest strains I owe

Who first inspired the flame;
And sweetest shall the numbers flow,

When graced with Emma's name.


I've seen the loveliest roses blow

That Hudson's verdant banks adorn; I've seen the richest crimson glow

That paints the smiling face of morn:

I've listen'd while the evening gale,

(Fraught with the sweets of many a flower, Wafted sweet incense through the vale,

And bless'd the contemplative hour.

Sweet tints the blushing rose adorn,

And sweet the rays of morning shine Sweet are the sounds by zephyrs borne,

But sweeter charms, my fair, are thine.

The rose shall droop, its charms shall fade,

Clouds shall obscure the brightest day; Music shall cease to bless the shade,

And even thy beauties must decay:

But the bright flame that warms thy breast,

Beams from those eyes, and tunes that tongue, Virtue--shall ever shine confess'd,

And ever claim my noblest song.


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