Classic Poem

A WAY ! let naught to love displeasing,
— My Winifreda, move your care;
Let naught delay the heavenly blessing,
— Nor squeamish pride, nor gloomy fear.

What though no grants of royal donors
— With pompous titles grace our blood,
We'll shine in more substantial honors,
— And, to be noble, we'll be good.

Our name, while virtue thus we tender,
— Will sweetly sound where'er 'tis spoke;
And all the great ones, they shall wonder
— How they respect such little folk.

What though, from fortune's lavish bounty,
— No mighty treasures we possess;
We'll find, within our pittance, plenty,
— And be content without excess.

Still shall each kind returning season
— Sufficient for our wishes give;
For we will live a life of reason,
— And that's the only life to live.

Through youth and age, in love excelling,
— We'll hand in hand together tread;
Sweet-smiling peace shall crown our dwelling,
— And babes, sweet-smiling babes, our bed.

How should I love the pretty creatures,
— While round my knees they fondly clung!
To see them look their mother's features,
— To hear them lisp their mother's tongue!

And when with envy time transported
— Shall think to rob us of our joys,
You'll in your girls again be courted,
— And I'll go wooing in my boys.