On Sensibility. To My Dear And Much Honoured Friend, Mrs. Dunlop, Of Dunlop.

Sensibility how charming, Thou, my friend, canst truly tell: But distress with horrors arming, Thou host also known too well. Fairest flower, behold the lily, Blooming in the sunny ray: Let the blast sweep o'er the valley, See it prostrate on the clay. Hear the woodlark charm the forest, Telling o'er his little joys: Hapless bird! a prey the surest, To each pirate of the skies. Dearly bought, the hidden treasure, Finer feeling can bestow; Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure, Thrill the deepest notes of woe.