Classic Poem

ODE XXVI

1

How am I lost! though some are pleas'd to say
My mossy Chops, estrange
All former Knowledge; and my Brother may
At distance interchange
Discourse, as to a man, he nere had knowne.
It cannot be: perswade
Your Selves; for when you made
Me take a Glass, I knew my Face, my owne;

2

The verie Same I had, three years agoe;
My Eye, my Lip, and nose,
Little, and great, as then; my high-slick't Brow,
Not bald as you suppose;
For though I have made riddance, of that Haire,
Which full enough did grow,
Cropt, in a Zealous bow
Above each Eare, these but small Changes are;

3

For wer't my worke, I need not farre goe seeke
The Face I had last yeare;
The groweing Frindge, but swept from either Cheeke,
And I as fresh appeare
As at nineteene; my Perruke, in as neat
An Equipage, as might
Become a wooer, light
In thoughts, as in his Dresse; but I forget,

4

Or rather I neglect, this Trim of Art;
And have a Care soe small,
To what I am, in any outward part,
I scarce know one of All;
Tis not that Forme, I looke at. Could I find
My inward Man, compleat
In his Dimensions, let
Mee glorie Truth; the better part's behind.