English poem
To My Cousin, Anne Bodham, On Receiving From Her A Network Purse Made By Herself.
My gentle Anne, whom heretofore, When I was young, and thou no more Than plaything for a nurse, I danced and fondled on my knee, A kitten both in size and glee, I thank thee for my purse. Gold pays the worth of all things here; But not of love;—that gem's too dear For richest rogues to win it; I, therefore, as a proof of love, Esteem thy present far above The best things kept within it.
More by William Cowper
- To Mrs. Newton.
- To Mrs. Newton.[101]
- To Mrs. Throckmorton, On Her Beautiful Transcript Of Horace's Ode, 'Ad Librum Suum.'
- To Mrs. Unwin.
- To My Father.
- To Sir Joshua Reynolds.
- To The Immortal Memory Of The Halibut, On Which I Dined This Day, Monday, April 26, 1784.
- To The Nightingale, Which The Author Heard Sing On New Year's Day.