Epistle To Davie, A Brother Poet
t love!
thou know'st my words sincere!
the life-blood streaming thro' my heart,
or my more dear immortal part,
is not more fondly dear!
whe-corroding care and grief
deprive my soul of rest,
her dear idea brings relief,
and soy breast.
thou being, all-seeing,
o hear my fervent pray'r;
still take her, and make her
thy most peculiar care!
all hail! ye tender feelings dear!
the smile of love, the friendly tear,
the sympathetic glow!
long sihis world's thorny ways
had number'd out my weary days,
had it not be
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