On his requesting me to write him two Poems;
One on his Canary, the Other on my going to Bombay
A Y , so it is in every brain —
Extremes of thought and wish are blended;
And something which awakens pain,
By something gay is oft attended.
The great events that chequer life,
May be to trifles nearest neighbours;
An opera's fate — a nation's strife —
But best to prove it, read the papers.

What is a trifle? 'Tis a thing
We all are arrogant in chiding;
Yet each in turn, from child to king,
Are prone to take exceeding pride in.
What is a trifle? 'Tis a word
That in its meaning strangely varies;
Thus, what I deem a common bird,
Frank holds the King of all Canaries!

What is a trifle? That, to one,
Which may my heart and spirit rifle;
Whilst what you eager seek or shun,
May I , serenely, call a trifle.
Thus recklessly we scatter forth
Our judgement on each other's pleasure,
Forgetting that full half the worth
Of life lies in opinion's measure.

Then let none blame thee, dearest boy,
That in thy last request are mingled
A trial sore — a feathered toy,
And that the last as first is singled.
A health, then, to thy pretty bird,
And though 'tis not a first-rate singer,
Long may its merry voice be heard,
Long may it peck both food and finger!

May never cat, with stealthy paw,
Approach too near its wire defender;
Nor newer pet, with beak and claw,
Prove how short-lived a favourite's splendour.
No; love him when, for glossy gold,
Grey, ragged plumes might tempt to laughter;
If constant to your pets, I hold
You'll faithful be in friendships after.