ABSTRACT
A poet, I think, always ought to compliment a reader [on the deleted] with the supposition of his possessing [of deleted] some of his [of deleted] own imagination – he should rather touch a train of known associations happily & lightly – than enter into minute analysis – Burns’s address of his genius in ‘The vision’ beginning at these lines ‘of these am I Coila my name’ to the end of the poem is an instance of the former – W[ordsworth] I think is to be blamed for the latter – . . .
