To Alex. Cunningham, ESQ., Writer

Ellisland, Nithsdale, July 27th, 1788.

      My godlike friend-nay, do not stare,      You think the phrase is odd-like;      But God is love, the saints declare,      Then surely thou art god-like.       And is thy ardour still the same?      And kindled still at Anna?      Others may boast a partial flame,      But thou art a volcano!       Ev'n Wedlock asks not love beyond      Death's tie-dissolving portal;      But thou, omnipotently fond,      May'st promise love immortal!       Thy wounds such healing powers defy,      Such symptoms dire attend them,      That last great antihectic try-      Marriage perhaps may mend them.       Sweet Anna has an air-a grace,      Divine, magnetic, touching:      She talks, she charms-but who can trace      The process of bewitching?