 | Complete works (1925-27) |  |
300
XX. [VOL. XX]
[To W. T. W. D.: 1909]
The tear of Sensibility bedewsThese votive offerings of no vulgar Muse.
The effusions of the Bard's compatriot show
A bosom no less apt to melt and glow.
Sure orient Anglia's native airs refine
Each pensive heart that prompts each fervent line.
Tho' higher may stand our elder, what of that?
No living hand may strike the lyre of Pratt.
A. C. S.
| Complete works (1925-27) | |