1860 Oн could my mind, unfolded in my page, Enlighten climes and mould a future age; Oh could it still, thro' each succeeding year, Or flush one faded cheek with honest joy ; Tho' short their date, as his who traced them here. 1793. |
1860 Oн could my mind, unfolded in my page, Enlighten climes and mould a future age; Oh could it still, thro' each succeeding year, Or flush one faded cheek with honest joy ; Tho' short their date, as his who traced them here. 1793. |