To Anne (Oh, Anne, your offences to me have been grievous) Oh, Anne, your offences to me have been grievous: I thought from my wrath no atonement could save you; But Woman is made to command and deceive us— I look’d in your face, and I almost forgave you. I vow’d I could ne’er for a moment respect you, Yet thought that a day’s separation was long; When we met, I determined again to suspect you— Your smile soon convinced me suspicion was wrong. I swore, in a transport of young indignation, With fervent contempt evermore to disdain you: I saw you—my anger became admiration; And now, all my wish, all my hope’s to regain you. With beauty like yours, oh, how vain the contention! Thus lowly I sue for forgiveness before you;— At once to conclude such a fruitless dissension, Be false, my sweet Anne, when I cease to adore you! Anne - Miss Anne Houson January 16, 1807 |
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