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?