Classic Poem

Your Steventon Friends
Are at their wits ends
To know what has become of Squire East;
They very much fear
He'll never come here
Having left them nine weeks at the least.


Two letters he sent
In hopes to prevent
Or lessen their wonder & trouble;
But as he still stays,
And creates fresh delays
Instead of being less, it is double.


Then pray thee, dear Sir,
No longer defer
Your return to the mansion of learning;
For we study all day,
(Except when we play)
And eke when the candles are burning —


Of Dan: Virgil we say
Two lessons each day;
The story is quite entertaining;
You have lost the best part,
But come, take a good heart,
Tho' we've read six, there are six books remaining


But we're somewhat afraid
Now so long you have stay'd
That all your poor books are forsaken;
And not e'en a Romance
Now stands the least chance
From your book case of ever being taken.


That " Cassandra" herself
May now lie on your shelf
No longer affording you pleasure;
While new tunes & new dances
And such pretty fancies
Employ all your thoughts & your leisure.


That such things as these
May delight, & may please
We do not pretend to deny;
But it's not quite so clever
To be dancing for ever
And let all your learning lie by


That you dance very well
All beholders can tell,
For lightly & nimbly you tread;
Bu, pray, is it meet
To indulge thus your feet
And neglect all the while y r poor head?


So we send you this letter
In hopes you'll think better,
And reflect upon what we have said;
And to make us amends
Pray return to your Friends,
Fowle, Stewart, Deane, Henry, & Ned!