Classic Poem

Time was that Strephon, when he found
A Chloe to his mind,
Sought not how Dun reported her,
Nor lagged while Time distorted her,
But rushed right in and courted her,
As Nature had designed.

It's different now; my Lucy, there,
How gladly would I woo!
But shapes of such monstrosity
Confront with such ferocity
My impecuniosity,
What is a man to do?

Strephon and Chloe had a hut,
And though, about the door,
The wolf might raise his serenade,
No latter-day menagerie bayed
Its warning, grim, to man and maid:
" Wed not if ye are poor! "

" My goats, " might Strephon say, " will yield
Us milk, our vineyard wine;
By olive groves my cot is hid,
No pressing wants our joy forbid,
And I can always kill a kid
When people come to dine. "

But I, what monsters must I face
When I for Lucy sue!
What landlords roaring for their rent!
What troops of duns by grocers sent!
And shapes of want and discontent
Calamitous to view.

Stay, Lucy, stay! I'm bold and stout,
I'll rout the grisly crew.
Be constant, love! and hope and wait,
And by the time you're thirty-eight
I may, perhaps, have conquered Fate,
And when I've won the right to mate,
If you're not too much out of date,
I'll surely mate with you!