Thorns were sharp and roots were gritty,
Bright the flower shone.
'Do ye not believe me, Kitty?
I am yours alone.'
'Yet for all your love unseeming
Ever and anon,
Ye will bury many women,
Ye will marry none.'
(W. Alice Prasbury. Chrn. of D. McLeod, 1848)
…
Time was ever deaf to Pity,
Laying stone by stone.
'Did ye not believe me Kitty?
I was yours alone.'
'Yet beside the Gate redeeming
Ever and anon
Prays a multitude of women
For the sake of one.'
'That your Destiny unerring
Be at last undone,
Take our blessing – go and marry –
But from hence – be gone!'
(?, presumably W. Adam Pierson., Sen. Methos Fellow, c. 1991)