While my young cheek retains its healthful hues,
       &nbspAnd I have many friends who hold me dear,
       &nbspL——! methinks, I would not often hear
Such melodies as thine, lest I should lose
All memory of the wrongs and sore distress
       &nbspFor which my miserable brethren weep!
       &nbspBut should uncomforted misfortunes steep
My daily bread in tears and bitterness;
And if at Death's dread moment I should lie
       &nbspWith no belovéd face at my bed-side,
To fix the last glance of my closing eye,
       &nbspMethinks such strains, breathed by my angel-guide,
Would make me pass the cup of anguish by,
       &nbspMix with the blest, nor know that I had died!