Classic Poem

Receive these lines, devoid of art,
The homage of a grateful heart:
To you, who prais'd my infant strain,
The labours of my youth pertain.
Doom'd in life's thorny path to stray,
The muse with flow'rs has strow'd my way,
Bestow'd a portion of her fire,
And bade my useful steps aspire.
If, midst thy toils, this verse impart
One moment's pleasure to thy heart,
If thou, my Friend, approve my lays,
I ne'er shall wish for higher praise.