MISS HONORA SMITH of LICHFIELD.
WRITTEN JUNE 1800.
Screen’d, dear HONORA, by that icy veil
Of virgin modesty, incessant worn,
What playful wit, what plastic genius dwell
Coy glancing sun-beams of thy April morn!
Whate’er thy untaught harmonies impart
From volant fingers to the answering wires;
Or when thy slow strains melt upon the heart,
Sweeping each varying chord, as taste inspires,
At the creative wonders of thy hand
Rapt sons of Science in amazement start,
Listening the strains, that brilliant, soft, or grand,
Rise at thy touch, and smile on baffled art.
And when thy sportive fancies steal abroad,
So wild, so new, grotesque, and strange they show,
Not less we wonder at their cold abode,
Such roses bursting from their sheet of snow!
When filial love, by many a melting tear,
Dropt on thy mother’s breast, its force proclaims,
Surprised we see an ardent heart appear,
A little Hecla pouring forth its flames.
Expanding, strength’ning, may thy mind retain
Its powers, its worth, its latent fires thro’ life!
Priceless the blessing then which they shall gain;
Who hail thee sister, daughter, friend, or wife.