^{(written in her twelfth year)}

With snow-clad top, and far projecting height,
Yon mist-wrapp'd mountain rises on my sight;
There fancy's pencil draws a world unseen,
For ever smiling, and for ever green;
Fills it with beings pure from sin's black stain,
Where faith, hope, charity, and friendship reign.
There forests waving, fill'd with songsters sweet,
The ear with wild and warbling music greet;
There purling rills in soft meanders glide,
There no rough cataract whirls its foaming tide;
Life's little bark there man in safety steers,
And passions dark'ning storms he never fears.