See Me, How Calm I Am. Ay,

Her Modest Looks The Cottage Might Adorn, Sweet As The Primrose Peeps Beneath The Thorn.

If You Were To Make Little Fishes Talk, They Would Talk Like Whales.

And As A Bird Each Fond Endearment Tries To Tempt Its New-fledg'd Offspring To The Skies, He Tried Each Art, Reprov'd Each Dull Delay, Allur'd To Brighter Worlds, And Led The Way.

He Watched And Wept And Prayed And Felt For All

Good People All, With One Accord, Lament For Madam Blaize, Who Never Wanted A Good Word From Those Who Spoke Her Praise.