Oft have I gaz'd with rapt delight,
Upon those eyes that sparkled bright,
Emitting beams of joy and light!
Sweet Willy.
Oft have I kiss'd that forehead high,
Like polished marble to the eye,
And blessing, breathed an anxious sigh,
For Willy.
My son! thy coral lips are pale--
Can I believe the heart-sick tale,
That I thy loss must ever wail?
My Willy.
The clouds in darkness seemed to low'r,
The storm has past with awful pow'r,
And nipt my tender, beauteous flow'r!
Sweet Willy.
But soon my spirit will be free,
And I my lovely son shall see,
For God, I know did this decree!
My Willy.
]
_17th_. This being St. Patrick's day, we dined with our excellent,
warm-hearted, and truly sympathizing friend, Mr. Johnston, in a private
way. He is the soul of hospitality, honor, friendship, and love, and no
one can be in his company an hour without loving and admiring a man who
gave up everything at home to raise up a family of most interesting
children in the heart of the American wilderness.
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