To a Lady with a very Charming Dimple in her Chin, occasion'd by a scar, which, she said, an unaccountable distemper had left there

That Wounds leave scars, is known to all Mankind;
But none e'er knew that scars left Wounds behind.
The dire effect, thus, the dire Cause is grown:
I see your Wounds, and smarting feel my own.
Thus, Graces infinite your Features Arm;
What are your Pow'rs! When ev'n Desease can Charm!
Shafts at impassive Heaven are shot in vain,
With Vengeance Wing'd, they kill, when turn'd again.
To Salve my Wounds, grant me one Balmy sigh,
For 'tis thro your Desease I pine and die.
Be kind; and perfectly restore me sound,
Where Love heals ill, a rancour'd Scar is found.