To A Gentleman, Who Shew'd A Fine Poem As His Own.
No more at Criticks, Ned, repine,
Who say those Numbers are not thine.
I own I was suspicious too,
And thought the Verse too good for You:
But since you say those Lines you writ,
The Proof is full, and I submit.
So, if Thaumantia should profess,
She owes Herself her glorious Dress;
And Cynthia, Empress of the Night,
Declare she shines by native Light;
(Tho' envious Criticks vent their Gall,)
I'd equally believe you all.
Mary Barber
The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets.
Internetpoem.com is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.