Classic Poem

'Twas on a lovely summer day
Folly, Philosophy, and Reason,
To Friendship's Garden took their way,
Where fruits and flowers were in season.

All that the nicest taste could please,
All that the eye could fancy fair,
Was hanging on the bending Trees,
Or sprung in rich profusion there.

Philosophy, with cautious eye,
Could neither fancy fruit or flower —
In all the last, he thorns would spy,
And all the first, he fear'd were sour.

And Folly rambled on the while,
Each gaudy flow'ret heedless choosing;
Plucking each fruit that seem'd to smile,
Unconscious she her time was losing.

But gentle Reason smiling went
And chose the flowers that grew retired;
Whose leaves a pleasing perfume lent,
To heighten what their charms inspired.

When Friendship mark'd them onward straying,
Her arm round Reason's neck she threw,
And press'd her to her bosom, saying
My bowers are only meant for you.

'Twas on a lovely summer day
Folly, Philosophy, and Reason,
To Friendship's Garden took their way,
Where fruits and flowers were in season.

All that the nicest taste could please,
All that the eye could fancy fair,
Was hanging on the bending Trees,
Or sprung in rich profusion there.

Philosophy, with cautious eye,
Could neither fancy fruit or flower —
In all the last, he thorns would spy,
And all the first, he fear'd were sour.

And Folly rambled on the while,
Each gaudy flow'ret heedless choosing;
Plucking each fruit that seem'd to smile,
Unconscious she her time was losing.

But gentle Reason smiling went
And chose the flowers that grew retired;
Whose leaves a pleasing perfume lent,
To heighten what their charms inspired.

When Friendship mark'd them onward straying,
Her arm round Reason's neck she threw,
And press'd her to her bosom, saying
My bowers are only meant for you.