Ode sent into Scotland to a frend, An

An Ode sent into Scotland to a frend

You that Ar-mine
How coms't about
Soe many sands run out
Sithence I receivd a line
Unles; because what's worse
Again, I am not yours

Noe Ocean
Or wall of Pickts
Or China that inflicts
This seperation
Say then, doe Posts miscarry
That soe they'd make me tarry

Noe: sure I am
Your leisure's strait
And Busnes of more wayght
For else we are the same
And though the clime may sever
Our bodies, our harts never

Which made to stere
But one course both
I should be very loth
That either hope or fear
Might cast an hazy Sky
Upon our Pilacy

But as one Pole
Directer is
Unto that Port and this
Wher mutually each soule
A store house hath to lade
Noe wrack befall such trade

'Til in the Urne
Our Ashes lie
A prize to desteny
After a full return
Heer by Exchange wafts through
You Back to Apthorp me to Edenburrough.
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.