A RE there no sympathies, no loves between us?
Is my hope vain?—I have not vex'd thee long,
Nor lent thee thoughts from God and good that wean us,
Nor given thee words that warp from right to wrong:
And if, at times, my too triumphant song
Hath seem'd self-praise, doth it indeed demean us
That when a man feels hotly at his heart
The quick spontaneous fire of thoughts and words,
He will not play the hypocrite's ill part,
Flinging aside the meed his Mind affords?
No! With all gratitude and humbleness
I claim mine own; nor can affect to scorn
A gift, of my Creator's goodness born,
Which is my grace and glory to possess.