Short Poems

Poor simple moth! thou art to blame
To play so much about the flame.
Alas, thy wings are yet but tender
And thou may'st soon again surrender,
Experience sure shou'd make thee wiser
So pray believe thy kind adviser!

How dang'rous is wit, when the choice is unfit!
Tho' it shines in your verse Mr. P INDAR ,
Will a wise man admire, the sparks of that fire
Which burns up his house to a cinder?

Vesper , belov'd Cythera's golden light;
Vesper , the sacred joy of Azure Night;
Thou other Stars out-shin'st, as Cynthia Thee;
Hail dearly welcome! come along with me,
And with thy light our past'ral sports befriend;
The Moon scarce up went down; I not intend
To rob; no Travellours shall of me complain;
I love and lovers should be lov'd again.

Horses plainly are descry'd
By the Mark upon their side:
Parthians are distinguished
By the Miters on their Head:
But from all Men else a Lover
I can easily discover,
For upon his easie Breast
Love his Brand-Mark hath imprest.

Why is there healing in her love?
Her mind is clear as streams that flow
Down rock-steps to a vale below,
Bearing on spray the Sun's bright bow,
And singing as they move.

After a grey day's forgetting
Was the red of this sun's setting,
And the ache of my regretting.

To-night my bed is a rack,
I die painful for love's lack...
O! My Beloved, come back! come back!

When I meet you, I greet you with a stare;
Like a poor shy child at a fair.
I will not let you love me — yet am I weak.
I love you so intensely that I cannot speak.
When you are gone, I stand apart,
And whisper to your image in my heart.

I wish no more that beauty walked in light,
Utterly naked to the daily sight.
O rather let some simple dress
Shelter my Woman's loveliness.
So is her beauty love's high prize,
Which I discover with adoring eyes.

I said, " I will not go to her to-night, "
When I had courage from the prudent light.
My resolution vanished with the day,
When the dark came I could not live away.
O! My dear Love, let down your hair,
Make me a tent, and let me shelter there;
That in the darkness of a screened night
I live more prudent than in loveless light.

Undone by woman, faithful records tell,
What heroes perish'd, and what monarchs fell;
From fame, from fortune, and from glory hurl'd,
Charles lost a crown, and Antony the world,
B-te, B-te, alone by female influence reigns,
And holds a nation and their — — in chains.