Classic Poem

" Why weeps my Boy?" His Father said;
Poor Edward points to Pony dead;
" And see," with trembling voice he cries,
" How stiff his limbs, how glazed his eyes;
Yes, my poor humble faithful friend,
" Thy life has reached its' destined end.
" Ne'er shall I more at early day,
" As to thy stall I take my way,
" Hear thy light, chearful, welcome neigh:
" No more at evening or at morn,
" Thy manger fill with sifted corn;
" Fresh sain foin put within thy rack,
" Kiss thy soft cheek or pat thy back.
" No more, as in the dewy mead
" I turn thee unconfined to feed,
" View thee with saucy boldness run,
" John's proffered sieve & halter shewn,
" Yet quiet stand when I come near
" And let me catch thee void of fear.
" No more, as on thy back I ride,
" Mark they quick step with conscious pride,
" Thy steps which scarcely print the grass,
" And many a taller pony pass.
" With secret pleasure view the gaze
" Of travellers in the rapid chaise,
" And er'e their wonder words can find
" Leave them almost a mile behind.
" These joys are flown, they come no more,
" And long must I thy loss deplore;
" Nor, while I live, expect to see
" A favourite I can love like thee;
" Take then, my darling pony, this
" My last farewell, my parting kiss.

He spoke, & bending o'er the corse
Kissed the last time his favourite horse,
Then slowly turned, & with a look,
Which mingled grief & love bespoke,
His Father's hand in silence took.

That hand his Father fondly pressed
And thus his weeping boy addressed.
" Think not I blame your tears my Love,
" Pleased I behold your conduct prove
" By grief so pure, so void of art,
" That you possess a feeling heart;
" Tis the first loss you ever knew;
" A greater trial far to you,
" Than they can tell, who often crossed
" By Life's maturer ills have lost
" What nothing ever can regain,
" Youth's kindly sense of joy & pain.
" Yet check awhile this burst of grief,
" Let reason come to your relief.
" In every woe at every age,
" Which meets us in life's bustling stage
" The ills which on ourselves we bring
" Alone can have a lasting sting.
" Say, had you e'er your power abused,
" Had you your Pony harshly used,
" Had you with cruel spur & thong
" Driven the poor tried wretch along,
" Or, when oppressed with labour hard,
" Left him to shiver in the yard,
" Ne'er seen him littered, rubbed, or fed,
" How would you bear to see him dead?
" How bitter then would be the thought
" You had not used him as you ought
" But you can view, nor conscience blame,
" (And may you ever do the same)
" Your conduct to your little steed,
" For sure I am no Quadrupede
" A kinder milder master knew
" Than Pony ever found in you.
" Then let this thought your bosom cheer,
" Check the deep sigh, & flowing tear,
" And from this loss your mind prepare
" More serious ills of life to bear.
" Happy as yet your days have flown,
" More joys than sorrows you have known,
" But do not think, my dearest Boy,
" Life is a scene of unmixed joy.
" Your comforts always to retain
" Were hope alas! absurd & vain:
" Each blessing that you now possess
" Time's lapse itself will soon make less;
" And, if you live, you'll live to mourn
" Full many joys that ne'r return.
" Around you now collected see
" Relations, friends, & family;
" Within a constant circle move,
" Endeared by bonds of mutual love;
" Yet these must all, (nay do not start,)
" From you, and from each other part;
" The time will come, when every year
" Takes from you some one you hold dear.
" Oh! then, as now, may no remorse
" Increase affliction's native force;
" No vain regrets for joys abused,
" Neglected friends, & time misused,
" Imprint a sorrow in your breast
" More hard to bear than all the rest.
" May the light woes of early youth
" Teach you this salutary truth;
" That every sorrow will be light,
" When all within our breasts is right;
" That a well regulated mind
" In such distress will comfort find,
" And, unreproving Conscience still
" Provide a cure for every ill,