[From Mona's Isle, 1844]


ONCE more, my Mary, I must go,
And face the stormy wave,
To quell Britannia’s haughty foe
I would all dangers brave:
But ere I venture on the deep
Let us our cares beguile—
Come hither, love, and do not weep,
But cheer me with thy smile.

It oft within our nuptial years
Has been our lot to part,
Yet still the oft’ner it appears
The fonder grows the heart!
Though keen the pang we feel, my love,
When we express farewell,
‘Tis mix’d with sympathies that prove
Much more than tongue can tell.

Then let this sympathetic glow
That flows within our breast,
Be the sweet solace of our woe
When we are thus oppress’d;
Then cease, my love, to sigh and mourn,
I hope ‘t will not be long
Ere I again to thee return,
To cheer thee with my song.


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