“ How can you bid this heart be blythe,1
When blythe this heart can never be ?2
I’ve lost the jewel from my crown—3
Look round our circle, and you’ll see4
That there is ane out o’ the ring5
Who never can forgotten be—6
Ay, there’s a blank at my right hand,7
That ne’er can be made up to me !8
’Tis said as water wears the rock,9
That time wears out the deepest line ;10
It may be true wi’ hearts enow,11
But never can apply to mine.12
For I have learn’d to know and feel—13
Though losses should forgotten be—14
That still the blank at my right hand15
Can never be made up to me !16
I blame not Providence’s sway,17
For I have many joys beside,18
And fain would I in grateful way19
Enjoy the same, whate’er betide.20
A mortal thing should ne’er repine,21
But stoop to the supreme decree !22
Yet, oh ! the blank at my right hand23
Can never be made up to me !”24