For Critics, As They Are Birds Of

Soft O'er The Shrouds Aerial Whispers Breathe, That Seemed But Zephyrs To The Train Beneath.

As With Narrow-necked Bottles; The Less They Have In Them, The More Noise They Make In Pouring Out.

Expression Is The Dress Of Thought, And Still Appears More Decent As More Suitable; A Vile Conceit In Pompous Words Express'd, Is Like A Clown In Regal Purple Dress'd.

Now Warm In Love, Now With'ring In My Bloom Lost In A Convent's Solitary Gloom!

The Muse But Serv'd To Ease Some Friend, Not Wife, / To Help Me Through This Long Disease, My Life.