by Helen Maria Williams
HERE rests the image of a friend,-
Thine, cherish'd BIBI , thine!
Oft to this spot our steps we'll bend,
And call it Friendship's shrine.
Through length'ning years' successive flight
Thy fondness still had power
To shed its narrow line of light
On life's domestic hour;
And while for pleasures sought amiss
Abroad we vainly roam,
How far more dear the slightest bliss
That adds one charm to home!
Let those who coldly scorn the tear
That soothes the grief we prove,
Say, if fidelity be dear,
If love has claims to love;
Say, on what hallow'd spot there lives
A heart unknown to range,
That to one chosen object gives
A love no power can change?
Tell, in what tender breast to find
Affection half so true?-
Ah, BIBI, who of human kind
Has learnt to love like you!
Last updated November 04, 2022