Extempore, to a Friend with Whom I Had Lain the Night Before — Upon Missing my Pocket Book

Dear SIR,

Confusion, Rage, and Grief as
Compleat as mine, admit no Preface!
I've lost (alas! what had I more?)
All my immense poetic Store!
A Pocket-Book, in Vellum bound,
Fill'd with good Verse, and Sense profound!
The Labour of full three Years past,
Design'd eternally to last!

If thou hast found (O how I dread
Thou hast not found!) upon the Bed,
Or by it's Side, the Thing I seek,
To ease my Soul, dear Friend, be quick —
Henceforth in Coffer close I'll lock it,
Nor trust such Treasure to my Pocket!
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