TO MRS........

Is not thy mind a gentle mind?

Is not that heart a heart refined?

Hast thou not every gentle grace,

We love in woman's mind and face?

And, oh! art thou a shrine for Sin

To hold her hateful worship in?

No, no, be happy — dry that tear —

Though some thy heart hath harbored near,

May now repay its love with blame;

Though man, who ought to shield thy fame,

Ungenerous man, be first to shun thee;

Though all the world look cold upon thee,

Yet shall thy pureness keep thee still

Unharmed by that surrounding chill;

Like the famed drop, in crystal found,

Floating, while all was frozen round,—

Unchilled unchanging shalt thou be,

Safe in thy own sweet purity.