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.