To L. E. L.

"Sappho of a polished age!Loves and graces sweetly flingChastened spendours o'er thy page,Like moonlight on a fairy's wing.Feelings fresh as morning's dews,Breathings gentle as the May's,Verses soft as violet's hues,Once sported in thy happy lays.

Sad is now thy plaintive strain,Melancholy is thy mood—Bring us back thy youth again!For Cheerfulness befits the good.Yet, if thou be sad—'tis well!If we weep,—'tis not in vain!Sighs, attuned to Sappho's shell,Allure us into love with pain!"