Of sweetest poesy to tell thee how,
With heart and spirit, I esteem the work
And labour of thy life! no harsher sound
Than softest music will befit the theme—
No tone less ’trancing than the poet’s lyre.
Kind friend of Infants! who in early life,
Amidst the haunts and dwellings of the poor,
Looking around thee, saw them left to roam
In paths of wickedness, untrained, untaught,
Save in the deeds of ill; and with a heart