Lines to a Reviewer
Alas, good friend, what profit can you seeIn hating such a hateless thing as me?There is no sport in hate where all the rageIs on one side: in vain would you assuageYour frowns upon an unresisting smile,In which not even contempt lurks to beguileYour heart, by some faint sympathy of hate.Oh, conquer what you cannot satiate!For to your passion I am far more coyThan ever yet was coldest maid or boyIn winter noon. Of your antipathyIf I am the Narcissus, you are freeTo pine into a sound with hating me.
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