1787

To Miss Logan, With Beattie's Poems,For A New-Year's Gift, Jan. 1, 1787.

Again the silent wheels of time

Their annual round have driven,

And you, tho' scarce in maiden prime,

Are so much nearer Heaven.

No gifts have I from Indian coasts

The infant year to hail;

I send you more than India boasts,

In Edwin's simple tale.

Our sex with guile, and faithless love,

Is charg'd, perhaps too true;

But may, dear maid, each lover prove

An Edwin still to you.