On Sensibility. To My Dear And Much Honoured Friend, Mrs. Dunlop, Of Dunlop.

    Sensibility how charming,
        Thou, my friend, canst truly tell:
    But distress with horrors arming,
        Thou host also known too well.

    Fairest flower, behold the lily,
        Blooming in the sunny ray:
    Let the blast sweep o'er the valley,
        See it prostrate on the clay.

    Hear the woodlark charm the forest,
        Telling o'er his little joys:
    Hapless bird! a prey the surest,
        To each pirate of the skies.

    Dearly bought, the hidden treasure,
        Finer feeling can bestow;
    Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure,
        Thrill the deepest notes of woe.