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That to parents and friends I must bend;
Love sinks under gratitude’s debt,
And all you can be is—my friend!
ACROSTIC.
A way my anxious doubts and fears!
N o action but my heart endears,
N o lips more honey’d to the touch,
E yes, too, that speak, nor speak too much.
ANOTHER.
W hen judgment and wit are combin’d
I n one tender and sensible mind,
L ove’s busy, at least, so I find,
L ooking out to see whom he can snare.
I'm caught—but I do not much care;
A s love is a lott’ry, I’ll e’en take a share.
M ay fortune then favour the brave & the fair.
FINIS.
