POEMS.
57
But scarce the wish my mind could frame,
Before I scorned the selfish thought.
Which aimed to load her soul with shame,
Who balm to mine had often brought.———
Friend, let these lines thy doubts remove,
For Laura's breast is Virtue's shrine:
It felt for me a Sister's love,
And found a Brother's heart in mine.
Before I scorned the selfish thought.
Which aimed to load her soul with shame,
Who balm to mine had often brought.———
Friend, let these lines thy doubts remove,
For Laura's breast is Virtue's shrine:
It felt for me a Sister's love,
And found a Brother's heart in mine.
