Classic Poem

As yet a youth, and unbetray'd,
I sought the rural throng;
The purling stream, the cooling shade,
Inspir'd my artless song.
How happy then each moment past,
No envy, passion, strife,
Till folly's cloud my mind o'ercaft,
And whisper'd thus — — See life!

Adieu the grove! adieu the plain!
Adieu the purling stream!
No more your charms can entertain,
No more must be my theme:
The town a different scene will prove,
Where pleasure's always rise:
Where bucks and bloods, and wine and love,
Fill up the span of life.

Hark! Comus calls to midnight joys,
Where Circe fills her cup;
This thought alone each mind employs,
" Kill time, and keep it up. "
For this the cit his counter quits,
And lonesome leaves his wise,
With sots and noisy wou'd-be wits,
For what? — — for — — seeing life.

Yet, ah! how vain this strange desire!
How vague the joys they share!
The bowl enfeebles nature's fire,
And folly brings forth care.
A thousand ills attendant wait,
The pistol, sword, or knife,
And all the hours of future fate
Are kill'd by seeing life.

Adieu the town! such joys I leave
To spendthrifts, knaves and cheats;
For decent mirth can ne'er deceive,
And prudence has more sweets.
The grove, the shade, I'll seek again,
And chuse an artless wife,
Content to grace my cot shall deign:
Adieu to seeing life.