Valentine to Ictinus

Miss Porden

O Cupid, many thanks are thine,
For my charming Valentine,
Winter’s frowns I heed no more,
Let the winds unkindly roar.
Let the thicker descending snow,
Deeper spread the ground below,
Still this dear delight is mine,
Ictinus is my Valentine.

Though not yet the tender note,
Swelled the linnet’s tuneful throat,
Though the flowers with drooping head,
Mourn their parent Phoebus fled,
And think those biting blasts declare
They ne’er shall feel his kindly care,
Yet still this dear delight is mine,
Ictinus is my Valentine.

E.P.

Feb. 14th 1808