Poem by Lucretia Maria Davidson

Shakespeare

 (Written in her fifteenth year)

Shakspeare! with all thy faults, (and few have more,)
I love thee still, and still will con thee o'er.
Heaven, in compassion to man's erring heart,
Gave thee of virtue — then, of vice a part,
Lest we, in wonder here, should bow before thee,
Break God's commandment, worship, and adore thee:
But admiration now, and sorrow join;
His works we reverence, while we pity thine.

1. Headache
2. The Grave
3. The Wee Flower of the Heather
4. To a Departing Friend
5. An Address to My Muse

Robert Herrick Shakespeare ("THOU soft-flowing Avon, by thy silver stream")

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