To Dora W; On Being Asked By Her Father to Write in Her Album

An Album is a Banquet; from the store,
In his intelligential Orchard growing,
Your Sire might heap your board to overflowing; —
One shaking of the Tree — 'twould ask no more
To set a Salad forth, more rich than that
Which Evelyn in his princely cookery fancied:
Or that more rare, by Eve's neat hands enhanced,
Where, a pleased guest, the angelic Virtue sat.
But like the all-grasping Founder of the Feast,
Whom Nathan to the sinning king did tax,
From his less wealthy neighbours he exacts;
Spares his own flocks, and takes the poor man's beast.
Obedient to his bidding, lo, I am,
A zealous, meek, contributory
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