I said to my heart, between sleeping and waking,
“Thou wild thing that always art leaping or aching,
What black, brown, or fair, in what clime, in what nation,
By turns has not taught thee a pit-a-pat-ation,”
and ending:—
Oh wonderful creature! a woman of reason!
Never grave out of pride, never gay out of season;
When so easy to guess who this angel should be,
Would one think Mrs. Howard ne’er dreamt it was she?
Pope, who held her in high esteem, coins a compliment even out of her deafness:—