To Caroline Maria Applebee

An Acrostic

Caroline glides smooth in verse, And is easy to rehearse; Runs just like some crystal river O'er its pebbly bed for ever.

Lines as harsh and quaint as mine In their close at least will shine, Nor from sweetness can decline, Ending but with Caroline.

Maria asks a statelier pace-- "Ave Maria, full of grace!" Romish rites before me rise, Image-worship, sacrifice, And well-meant but mistaken pieties.

Apple with Bee doth rougher run. Paradise was lost by one; Peace of mind would we regain, Let us, like the other, strain Every harmless faculty, Bee-like at work in our degree, Ever some sweet task designing, Extracting still, and still refining.