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    Written on the Blank Leaf of a copy of My Poems

    by Robert Burns
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    [This is another of the poet's lamentations, at the prospect of
    "torrid climes" and the roars of the Atlantic. To Burns, Scotland was
    the land of promise, the west of Scotland his paradise; and the land
    of dread, Jamaica! I found these lines copied by the poet into a
    volume which he presented to Dr. Geddes: they were addressed, it is
    thought, to the "Dear E." of his earliest correspondence.]

    Once fondly lov'd and still remember'd dear;
    Sweet early object of my youthful vows!
    Accept this mark of friendship, warm, sincere,--
    Friendship! 'tis all cold duty now allows.

    And when you read the simple artless rhymes,
    One friendly sigh for him--he asks no more,--
    Who distant burns in flaming torrid climes,
    Or haply lies beneath th' Atlantic roar.
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