Classic Poem

Come, Damon! come, enough of wisdom's ways,
Of antic antres, and of grottos wild;
Suppose a daffodil, design displays,
" Or lily, lady of the flow'ry field. "

Suppose a fly, like potentates and kings,
Can plead antiquity, and boast of birth;
That not a mushroom or a maggot springs
From the cold womb of uncreative earth.

Philosophy, and idle whim, away,
What is a mushroom or a mite to you?
" They mark intelligence. " — But, D AMON ! say,
To love and nature is there nothing due?

Must C LARA 's beauties in their blossom fade?
The tears of sorrow dim her lovely eyes?
While you, insensible! disturb your head
With the genealogy of grubs and flies?

Recal her form, and feed on fancy's feast,
Unheard let C LODIO tell his tasteless tale;
Her blooming beauties a divine repast,
An endless banquet, and exhaustless meal.

If fair to fancy, how exceeding fair
When given unclouded to your lawless gaze!
It comes — behold the bridal day! prepare
A long farewel to wisdom and her ways.