The Mountain Moss

Miss Sanders

With some specimens address’d to Miss P.

These specimens from nature wild
 I cull — to Ellen send,
From Alpine heights, where winter mild
 Recalls the absent friend.

With whom in rougher seasons past
 I’ve shar’d the cheerful hour;
Scenes in the mind of mem’ry cast,
 That prove how great the pow’r.

Of poetry and friendship’s charm
 Wit’s keen but baneful dart,
That flies to please, but not to harm
 The unsuspecting heart.

My feelings simple present tell,
 The mind’s fond pleasure o’er;
On Attic eves it loves to dwell
 Tho’ seen the Chest no more!

In vain thro’ winter’s gloom I seek
 The varied posy’s hue,
The crocus scarce attempts to peep
 Thro’ misty rains and dew.

No vagrant flow’r the hills disclose
 Or primrose cheers the vale,
Winds have impair’d the fasten’d rose
 Nor violets scent the gale.

The dewdrops pale and tender frame
 Could ill the pressure bear;
Else had my packet borne its name
 And sweets to Ellen dear.

Yet moss more apt resemblance wears,
 To friendship that’s sincere,
For tried by storms it still appears
 Unchang’d throughout the year.

Then with it, I’d each wish enclose
 Affection could impart,
Content with health’s unfading rose
 And happiness of heart!

Then such the New Years wish I send,
 Tho’ late conveyance came;
Accept it Ellen from a friend
 In distance still the same.