Edward Farmer

“ Thrush will to Thrush, as Lark to Lark repairs,
From fellow feeling known each other's cares;
Each joy divided, and each sorrow known,
And met with kindred feeling all its own.
Thus time wore on, as yet no bird had come
Congenial partner of her heart and home.
A dreary void her "bosom's lord" besets,
A life is her's of sighs and vain regrets ”