DOROTHY.

Dear little Dorothy, she is no more!

I have wandered world-wide, from shore to shore,

I have seen as great beauties as ever were wed;

But none can console me for Dorothy dead.

Dear little Dorothy! How strange it seems

That her face is less real than the faces of dreams;

That the love which kept true, and the lips which so spoke,

Are more lost than my heart, which died not when it broke!