This scrap reads,
Come into this snow-white page,
Dreams of youth and thoughts of age;
Fancy, feeling, Genius, come,
I will give ye ample room;
To my fair extended field,
Fruits, and flowers, and foliage yield;
Boundless as the treasures brought
From the realms of purest thought;
Brilliant fires, like meteors glancing,
Gentler lights more calm advancing
On their mingled aid I call,
Welcome, welcome be they all!
Go, thou tablet white and clear,
For thy doom I will not fear;
Never shall thy pages know
The sternness of a critic's brow;
Uncondemned, the growing line
Shall fulfil its kind design,
Storing for some distant day,
Thoughts of pleasures past away.
Location: Scrap Book. Early and Fine Printing Collection.