b                              This Band, which bound thy yellow hair,
                                   Is mine,sweet girl!  thy pledge of love;
                                It clains my warmest, deepest care,
                                   Like relics left of saints above.

                                Oh! I will wear it next to my heart;
                                    `T will bind my soul in bonds to thee;
                                 From me again `t will ne`er depart,
                                     But mingle in the grave with me.
 
 

                                                The dew I gather from thy lip
                                      Is not so dear to me as this;
                                  That I but for a moment sip,
                                      And banquet on a transient bliss;

                                  This will recall each youthful scene,
                                      E`en  when our lives are on the wane;
                                   The leaves of Love  will be green
                                      When Memory bids them bud again.