Addressed To The Author In The Morning Herald Poem by Charlotte Dacre

'TIS not indiff'rent, I would have you prove;
Ah! if you love, cherish the sacred fire,
For I'm no traitor, nor would seek to move
In others, what my breast could not inspire.

If all my features soft emotion wear,
They truly speak--I feel them in my soul;
Must I love less--if aught--tho' not a fear
Fetters those feelings, dictates a controul?

The name of friendship I confess is sweet,
With that you grant me I would never part;
Friendship is thine--with rapture I would meet
The warmest, wildest throbbings of thy heart.

Friendship is sweet; but love, oh! sweeter still!
The union gives a source of real joy;
Grant then thy love, and know it is my will
To give thee happiness without alloy.