Classic Poem

Mrs Austen
This morning I 'woke from a quiet repose,
I first rubb'd my eyes & I next blew my nose.
With my Stockings & Shoes I then cover'd my toes
And proceeded to put on the rest of my Cloathes.
This was finish'd in less than an hour I suppose;
I employ'd myself next in repairing my hose
'Twas a work of necessity, not what I chose;
Of my sock I'd much rather have knit twenty Rows. —
My work being done, I looked through the win dows
And with pleasure beheld all the Bucks & the Does,
The Cows & the Bullocks, the Wethers & Ewes. —
To the Lib'ry each morn, all the Family goes,
So I went with the rest, though I felt rather froze.
My flesh is much warmer, my blood freer flows
When I work in the garden with rakes & with hoes.
And now I believe I must come to a close,
For I find I grow stupid e'en while I compose;
If I write any longer my verse will be prose.
Miss Austen

Love, they say is like a Rose;
I'm sure tis like the wind that blows,
For not a human creature knows
How it comes or where it goes.
It is the cause of many woes,
It swells the eyes & reds the nose,
And very often changes those
Who once were friends to bitter foes.
But let us now the scene transpose
And think no more of tears & throes.
Why may we not as well suppose
A smiling face the Urchin shows?
And when with joy: the Bosom glows,
And when the heart has full repose,
'Tis Mutual Love the gift bestows. —
Miss J. Austen

Happy the Lab'rer in his Sunday Cloathes! —
In light-drab coat, smart waistcoat, well-darn'd Hose
And hat upon his head to Church he goes; —
As oft with conscious pride he downward throws
A glance upon the ample Cabbage rose
Which stuck in Buttonhole regales his nose,
He envies not the gayest London Beaux. —
In Church he takes his seat among the rows,
Pays to the Place the reverence he owes,
Likes best the Prayers whose meaning least he knows,
Lists to the Sermon in a softening Doze,
And rouses joyous at the welcome close. —
Mrs E. Austen

Never before did I quarrel with a Rose
Till now that I am told some lines to compose,
Of which I shall have little idea God knows! —
But since that the Task is assign'd me by those
To whom Love, Affection & Gratitude owes
A ready compliance, I feign would dispose
And call to befriend me the Muse who bestows
The gift of Poetry both on Friends & Foes. —
My warmest acknowledgements are due to those
Who watched near my Bed & soothed me to repose
Who pitied my sufferings & shared in my woes,
And by their simpathy relieved my sorrows.
May I as long as the Blood in my veins flows
Feal the warmth of Love which now in my heart glows,
And may I sink into a refreshing Doze
When I lie my head on my welcome pillows.