TO M[ARY] L[OCKE]
Acrostic
Must I write with pen unwilling
And describe those graces killing
Rightly, which I never saw?
Yes—it is the Album's law.
Let me then Invention strain
On your excelling charms to feign—
Cold is Fiction? I believe it
Kindly, as I did receive it,
Even as J.F.'s tongue did weave it.