'Yet leave me not. I would allay that grief,
'Which else might thy young virtue overpower;
'And in thy converse I shall find relief,
'When the dark shades of melancholy lower:
'For solitude has many a dreary hour,
'Even when exempt from grief, remorse, and pain:
'Come often then; for, haply, in my bower,
'Amusement, knowledge, wisdom, thou may'st gain:
'If I one soul improve, I have not lived in vain.'