TO
ANNA
.
THIS
faded
lip
may
oft
to
thee
As
gay
a
smile
,
my
Anna
,
wear
,
As
when
in
youth
,
from
sorrow
free
,
I
only
shed
the
transient
tear
.
And
oft
chill
Autumn's
varying
day
,
Resembles
April's
genial
hours
;
And
glitters
with
the
noontide
ray
,
Though
oftener
dark
with
clouds
and
showers
.
And
,
when
I
join
the
social
throng
,
This
heart
as
warmly
seems
to
glow
As
when
my
pensive
early
song
Was
only
tuned
to
fancied
woe
.
And
oft
we
see
gay
ivy's
wreath
The
tree
with
brilliant
bloom
o'erspread
,
When
,
part
its
leaves
,
and
gaze
beneath
,
We
find
the
hidden
tree
is
dead
.