Mary Whateley Poems >>
On The Author's Husband Desiring Her To Write Some Verses

VERSES, my love! As soon could I
Without a wing or feather fly;
My head, with other matters fraught,
No more attempts poetic thought:
Yet, as I hold your sovereign sway,
In spite of genius I obey.
 Ye Muses, aid me to explore
The shadowy grots, and mountains hoar,
Where ye your tuneful influence shed,
And twine with bays your poet's head.

Erato hears my invocation, --
My bosom glows with inspiration,
Instant the fairy scenes appear,
Pierian sounds salute my ear:
Connubial Love! enchanting theme!
Sweet subject of my muse-rapt dream,
To thee I consecrate my lays,
And thus my heart pours forth thy praise:

Blessed state! by gracious heaven designed
To soothe our passions into peace,
To twine in union sweet the kindred mind,
Th' endearing ties of social life to bind
In chains so strong, yet soft, they but with life can cease

The mutual interest all reserve disclaiming,
The scheme of pleasure each for other framing,
The kindling transports of parental love,
Which the sweet smiles of innocence can move,
Are thine alone, 0 Hymen! to bestow,
Which hearts that do not feel them cannot know:
But hark!-my darling infant cries,
And each poetic fancy flies.