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"TO THE ONLY BEGETTER."
TO you I sing. To you alone
These rhymes in no uncertain tone
A message bring. Let others hint
They are not worth the ink to print—
Of others I am heedless grown.
Chilled by the bookshop's frigid zone
These rhymes in haste to you have flown,
Fleeing the critic's heart of flint
To you they sing.
I have no fear lest you postpone
Your gentle judgement. I have known
Your gracious favour has no stint,
You'll say (your cheek a rosier tint),
"I like them, for they are his own"—
To you I sing.
