Dr. Henry Harington

Sarah S. Pugh, "To my Apollo, Dr. Harington. Atte the Bathe" Pugh, Poems addressed to various Literary Characters (1827) 20.

When poor foolish Daphne was turned to a tree,
I doubt not, she fretted and strove to get free;
My fate is, if possible, much more perverse!
She could see the fond God, and could bask in his Beams:
I only can view my Apollo in dreams,
Or his slumbers annoy with prosaical verse.

No bright verdant Laurel your Daphne appears;
But a poor weeping Willow all drooping in tears,
Set fast in the cold and the clay.
My rivals, gay Roses! sweet Myrtles! are near,
They offer bright garlands to crown the New Year
With the perfumes and blossoms of May!

Ah! forget not your Willow! though low droops her head
When absent from you, — all her happiness fled;
Your Sunshine her leaves will renew.
Her heart is as true, and her wishes as warm,
Though unblest with the Rose's more delicate charm;
Nor shall death her affection subdue!