Classic Poem

W HEN Summer's genial days are gone,
And Winter puts her livery on;
Of all the Suns that ever set,
Be mine, ye Fates, like Will and Bet .

There was a time, though now 'tis past,
When she in Beauty's mould was cast;
Her eye still beams — a dimple yet
Recalls the envy'd smile of Bet .

The time has been — it is no more —
That Will a Wrestler's figure bore:
Nor yet he 's bent with age — and still
There is an air that graces Will .

A loving heart survives in both,
And years have crown'd the nuptial oath;
She to this day is William's pet,
As he the idol is of Bet .

A competence of rustic fare
In this delightful cot they share:
Their grateful hearts no boon forget,
Your smiles are paid by Will and Bet .

No fame that Conway has achiev'd
A wreath so brilliant has receiv'd,
As when his name can spread the net
For pride of heart in Will and Bet .

" Yes, it was here ," said Will , " he sat: " —
" There, Will! " said he, " lay down my hat!
Though out of place — we must not fret,
But laugh and chat with you and Bet ."

" In all that bears the shape of men ,
We have not seen his like again:
For him the poor man's tears are wet —
They lov'd him — just as I love Bet .

" Your Honour sees in this old girl
A wife that is the husband's pearl;
But here no dainties you can get,
The heart is all in Will and Bet ."

It is not age that here declines,
And ploughs the cheek in furrow'd lines;
But Peace and Conscience, out of debt ,
That play with Time in Will and Bet .