P O E 7 r. y

It's words
Are few, but deep and solemn, and they break
Fresh from the fount Of feelh,g!-Perciual.
{"newspaper_name": "The Columbian fountain.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": "Forthe Columbian fountain.\nTO MISS M. A. II."}
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Forthe Columbian fountain


TO MISS M. A. +.


BY THE AUTHOR.
Oh tell me at once that you love me no more
Oh! say you are weary, and hope will be o'er;
But let me not fruillessly waste my souls life
Between doubt and despair in this passionate


strife. U.
II is time. Heaven knows, that turn from my


dream!
,Tis tolly! It's madness, though sweet it may


seem;
And if once from your lips your estrangement


know,
Pve pride still at heart, that would rise at the
By all the true tenderness lavished TOO long
On your bosom, oh! soul Of my thoughts and


my song;
By all the wild worship Pve poured at your


feet,
Oh! soothe me no more with this fatal deceit.
| seek not your pity-'twill deepen the grief
That can find but in love all it asks OF relief,
But tell me at once that trusted in vain,
And ne'er be those dear eyes bent on me again.
You cannot give back the pure bloom Of my


soul,
The freshness, the light, that my wild passion


stole,
You cannot restore me the innocent truth,
That once was the glory and pride OF my


youth.
They are gone, and forever, the joy and the


bloom
They have fed like the withered flowers


blush and perfume
If your love has gone with them, oh listen my
prayer,
Let me rest though it be in the calm of de-
spair!
HARRY w.