IN A LETTER to A.R.C. ON HER WISHING TO BE CALLED ANNA.
Forgive me, if I wound your ear,
By calling of you Nancy,
Which is the name of my sweet friend,
The other's but her fancy.
Ah, dearest girl! how could your mind
The strange distinction frame?
The whimsical, unjust caprice,
Which robs you of your name.
_Nancy_ agrees with what we see,
A being wild and airy;
Gay as a nymph of Flora's train,
Fantastic as a fairy.
But _Anna's_ of a different kind,
A melancholy maid;
Boasting a sentimental soul,
In solemn pomp array'd.
Oh ne'er will I forsake the sound,
So artless and so free!
Be what you will with all mankind.
But _Nancy_ still with me.