The Posthumous Works of Ann Eliza Bleecker/To Mrs. D—

Dear Betsey now Pleasure the woodland has left,
 * Nor more in the water she laves,

Since winter the trees of their bloom has bereft,
 * And stiffen'd to crystal the waves.

Now clad all in fur our guest she appears,
 * By the fire-side a merry young grig;

She pours out the wine, our pensiveness cheers,
 * And at night leads us out to a jig.

Then venture among the tall pines if you dare,
 * Encounter the keen arctic wind;

Dare this for to meet with affection sincere,
 * And Pleasure untainted you'll find.

I know you have Pleasure, my sister, by whiles,
 * But then she appears in great state;

She is hard of access, and lofty her smiles,
 * While Envy and Pride on her wait.

Thro' drawing rooms, Betsey, you'll chase her in vain,
 * The Colonel may seek her in blood;

The Poets agree (and they cannot all feign)
 * That she's born and resides in the wood.