LINES TO ——.

O could I love thee, love as thou art worthy to be loved, Thy deep, thy constant tenderness my purpose might have moved. I know, might I accept thy heart, a blissful lot were mine; Would we had earlier met—but no! I never could be thine. I love thee as a sister loves a brother kind and dear, And feel a sister's thrilling pride whene'er thy praise I hear; And I have breathed a sister's prayer for thee at Mercy's throne, And ne'er a truer, purer love might sister's bosom own. I knew this trial was in store; I felt it day by day; And oft in ag1 ony I prayed this cup might pass away; And yet I lacked the power to tell, what thou too late must hear, To tell thee that another claims this heart to thee so dear. Alas! that I must cause thee pain—I know that thou wilt grieve— For oh! thou art all truthfulness; thou never couldst deceive; And I have wept when anxious care sat heavy on thy brow, Have wept when others wounded thee, and I must wound thee now. It may be that in after-years we yet shall meet again, When time has cancelled every trace of this dark hour of pain: O may I see thee happy, blest, whate'er my lot may be, And, as a sister and a friend, I shall rejoice with thee.