Lady Unknown, who crav'st from me Unknown The trifle of a verse these leaves to grace, How shall I find fit matter? with what face Address a face that ne'er to me was shown? Thy looks, tones, gesture, manners, and what not, Conjecturing, I wander in the dark. I know thee only Sister to Charles Clarke! But at that name my cold Muse waxes hot, And swears that thou art such a one as he, Warm, laughter-loving, with a touch of madness, Wild, glee-provoking, pouring oil of gladness From frank heart without guile. And, if thou be The pure reverse of this, and I mistake-- Demure one, I will like thee for his sake. IN MY OWN ALBUM (1827) Fresh clad from heaven in robes of white. A young probationer of light, Thou wert my soul, an Album bright, A spotless leaf; but thought, and care, And friend and foe, in foul or fair, Have "written strange defeatures" there; And Time with heaviest hand of all, Like that fierce writing on the wall, Hath stamp'd sad dates--he can't recal; And error gilding worst designs-- Like speckled snake that strays and shines-- Betrays his path by crooked lines; And vice hath left his ugly blot; And good resolves, a moment hot, Fairly began--but finish'd not; And fruitless, late remorse doth trace-- Like Hebrew lore a backward pace-- Her irrecoverable race. Disjointed numbers; sense unknit; Huge reams of folly, shreds of wit; Compose the mingled mass of it. My scalded eyes no longer brook Upon this ink-blurr'd thing to look-- Go, shut the leaves, and clasp the book. MISCELLANEOUS ANGEL HELP[5] (1827)