Classic Poem

Your riddle does feed though it never could eat;
Else how could poor mortals with laughing grow fat?
A horselaugh's so crude it defiles your learn'd jest,
For it changes a beau to the form of a beast.
You may laugh in the day if your teeth remain white;
If black, you discreetly must laugh in the night;
If loose, I advise you to get them some binders,
For a gunpowder laughter may blow out your grinders.
With the drolls, that your wit may obtain a good grace,
Be sure you tee-hee it still in the right place;
Most satires in frowning do chiefly delight,
But Horace's laughter has still the most spite;
But, Sir, be of comfort, though your riddle moves laughter,
'Tis a laughing of liking, not the ha-ha of satire.