16.04.2007, 11:44
If from my lips some angry accents fell,
Peevish complaint, or harsh reproof unkind,
'Twas but the error of a sickly mind
And troubled thoughts, clouding the purer well,
And waters clear, of reason; and for me
Let this my verse the poor atonement be -
My verse, which thou to praise wert ever inclined
Too highly, and with a partial eye to see
No blemish. Thou to be didst ever show
kindest affection, and would oft-times lend
An ear to the desponding love-sick lay,
Weeping my sorrows with me, who repay
But ill the mighty dept of love I owe,
Mary, to thee, my sister, and my friend.
Peevish complaint, or harsh reproof unkind,
'Twas but the error of a sickly mind
And troubled thoughts, clouding the purer well,
And waters clear, of reason; and for me
Let this my verse the poor atonement be -
My verse, which thou to praise wert ever inclined
Too highly, and with a partial eye to see
No blemish. Thou to be didst ever show
kindest affection, and would oft-times lend
An ear to the desponding love-sick lay,
Weeping my sorrows with me, who repay
But ill the mighty dept of love I owe,
Mary, to thee, my sister, and my friend.