| Citation |
NYG(B.737.002
21 Dec 1736-4 Jan 1737:21,22,31 (582)
THE PRODIGY: A LETTER TO A FRIEND IN THE COUNTRY.
By Mrs. Barber.
Tho' rhyme serves the thoughts of great poets to fetter,
It sets off the sense of small poets the better:
When I've written in prose, I often have found,
That my sence, in a jumble of words was quite drown'd.
. . . [88 lines]
All hail, ye fields, where constant peace attends,
All hail, ye sacred solitary groves,
All hail, ye books my true, my lasting friends
Whose conversation pleases and improves.
. . . [10 more verses]
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