Dear Sir, methinks I see you smile,
To find the muse does you beguile.
Stealing upon you by a wile,
And in a dress unusual:
Know then she’s fond, in her new cloth,
To visit you and madam both:
Then treat her kindly, she is loath
To meet with a refusal.
In the enjoyment of your wife,
She wishes long and nappy life,
Secure from trouble, care, and strife,
And then a generation
Of boys and girls; a hopeful race,
Their aged parents’ crown and grace;
Skilful in war, and when ’tis peace
The glory of their nation.
May never want your steps pursue,
Nor watchful care contract your brow:
The horn of plenty be your due,
With health and skill to use it.
No narrow views debase your soul;
May you ne’er want a cheerful bowl,
To treat a friend, and cares controul;
But yet do not abuse it.
Improve the days that are serene;
Make hay while yet the sun doth shine,
‘Twill not avail you to repine;
Take care lest here you blunder.
You can’t recall the by-past hours,
The present time is only yours;
The warmest day brings quickest show’rs,
And often, too, with thunder.
And storms will happen; when ’tis so,
Low’r down the sails and let ’em blow:
Or guard yourself at least from woe,
By yielding to the billows.
Tempests will rend the stubborn oak,
The tallest pines are soonest broke,
And yield beneath the furious stroke
Which never hurts the willows.
Tho’ sometimes they may make you smart.
Take curtain lectures in good part;
I think philosopher thou art,
And know’st how to improve them.
The doctor’s pills, altho’ they’re bitter,
And may at present raise a spl–r,
Yet as they tend the health to better,
We take, but do not love them.
Now to your fair I this would say:
As—‘s heart you stole away,-
“Stole! No, dear Sir, he gave it.” -Well, giv’n or stol’n I’ll not contend, And here will let that matter end;
But next contrive to save it
I mean to save it for yourself,
Or else the cunning, wayward elf,
Perchance may sometimes wander.
Unjustly all our nymphs complain
Their empire holds too short a reign,
Yet do not at this wonder.
If you your empire would maintain,
Use the some arts that did it gain,
Success will never fail you.
At ev’ry trifle scorn offence,
Which shows great pride or little sense,
And never will avail you.
Shun av’rice, vanity, and pride;
High titles, empty toys deride,
Tho’ glitt’ring in the fashions.
You’re wealthy if you arc content,
For pow’r, its amplest best extent,
Is empire o’er the passions,
‘Tis not on madam’s heavenly face.
His ever constant love he’ll place;
Only consult your glasses:
For beauty, like the new blown flow’r,
Lives but the glory of an hour,
And then forever passes.
The graces of your mind display,
When transient beauties fly away,
Than empty phantoms fleeter
Then as the hours of life decline,
You like the setting sun shnll shine,
With milder rays and sweeter.
(John Beveridge)
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Based on Topics: Life Poems, Time Poems, Soul Poems, War & Peace Poems, Faces Poems, Joy & Excitement Poems, Sense & Perception Poems, Friendship Poems, Place Poems, Beauty Poems, Smiling PoemsBased on Keywords: debase, amplest, nappy, by-past, as-