1787
    to miss logan, with beattie's poems, for a new-year's gift, jan. 1, 1787.
    again the silent wheels of time
    their annual round have driven,
    and you, tho' scarce in maiden prime,
    are so much nearer heaven.
    no gifts have i from indian coasts
    the infant year to hail;
    i send you more than india boasts,
    in edwin's simple tale.
    our sex with guile, and faithless love,
    is charg'd, perhaps too true;
    but may, dear maid, each lover prove
    an edwin still to you.