Classic Poem

If , long ere this, no lay of mine,
Has been to thee devoted,
'Tis not because such worth as thine
Has idly pass'd unnoted.

To charms more transient, tribute due.
Has oft been idly chanted;
And auburn locks, or eyes of blue,
Have gain'd what folly wanted!

To beauty's song and beauty's smile
My Muse has homage render'd;
And unto many a trifling wile
Some trifling meed has tender'd.

In praising such, my short-lived song
Did all that I desired it;
It lived, perchance, about as long
As that which first inspired it.

Not such, my friend, the song for thee;
Did I that lyre inherit,
Which Cowper woke, its strings should be
Responsive to thy merit.

Thou art not one whose path has been
Strew'd but with summer roses;
With sky above of blue serene,
Which never storm discloses.

Who tread such paths, with graceful glee,
May cull what clusters round them;
And, fading, may to memory be
Just like the flowers that crown'd them

But in the bloom of youth to tread
As through a desert dreary;
With much to harass heart and head,
To harass and to weary;

So circumstanced, to cultivate
Each flower that leisure graces;
And thus to find, in spite of fate,
Sweet spots in desert places:

To do all this, and still to be,
In social life, a woman
From half thy sex's follies free,
Is merit far from common