Row thy bark, my gallant lover;
Pensive o'er the rippling sea;
And when moonlight gathers round thee;
Sadly sighing, think on me;
'Neath the tulip trees to meet thee;
Ne'er again thy love shall come;
Where soft echo's voice responding;
Tun[?] mocks the Tartar Drum;
Bending o'er my gallant vessel;
Thee alone shall I behold;
Like a spirit in the sun beams;
Born along on waves of gold;
At the rustic dance of evening;
Never more thy love will come;
Where the mirthful cymbals greeting;
Jeyous sounds the Tartar Drum;
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Citation
Kenneth Goldstein Collection, Special Collections, University of Mississippi Libraries