In The Album Of Lucy Barton

(1824)

Little Book, surnamed of white, Clean as yet, and fair to sight, Keep thy attribution right.

Never disproportion'd scrawl; Ugly blot, that's worse than all; On thy maiden clearness fall!

In each letter, here design'd, Let the reader emblem'd find Neatness of the owner's mind.

Gilded margins count a sin, Let thy leaves attraction win By the golden rules within;

Sayings fetch'd from sages old; Laws which Holy Writ unfold, Worthy to be graved in gold:

Lighter fancies not excluding; Blameless wit, with nothing rude in, Sometimes mildly interluding

Amid strains of graver measure: Virtue's self hath oft her pleasure In sweet Muses' groves of leisure.

Riddles dark, perplexing sense; Darker meanings of offence; What but shades--be banished hence.

Whitest thoughts in whitest dress, Candid meanings, best express Mind of quiet Quakeress.