Classic Poem

I.

Since , by the Fair Sex, Men are priz'd,
Not for their Wit's, but Money's Store,
And Wits, for Want of Coin, despis'd;
'Tis Nonsense to Love, and be Poor;

II.

Since Noble, Wise, Good, Rich Men are,
By Women thought, for Money's Store,
And Love can, but by Gifts, appear;
'Tis Miserable to be Poor;

III.

Since my Saint, but with Offerings,
Her Kneeling Lovers must adore;
Our Empty Vow no Blessing brings,
The heavy'st Curse, is to be Poor;

IV.

Since in Love's Purgatory, Man,
In Chains, Flames, lies for evermore;
Till but his Gifts his Bliss can gain,
It is Damnation to be Poor;

V.

Since thou, like Heav'n, Good, Glorious art,
Thou shoud'st be (like it) gain'd the more,
Not by Man's broken Gold, but Heart;
Damn thy Rich Beggar, save thy Poor;

VI.

Since thee the Proud, Bold, Rich Men claim,
Not on their Love's, but Money's Score;
Them then, for their Presumption dam',
To Pains, Flames, give Joys your Poor.