(A LETTER TO J. T. BECHER) IF fate should seal my Death to-morrow (Though much I hope she will postpone it), I've held a share of Joy and Sorrow, Enough for Ten; and here I own it. I've lived, as many other men live, And yet, I think, with more enjoyment: For could I through my days again live, I'd pass them in the same employment. That is to say, with some exception, For though I will not make confession, I've seen too much of man's deception Ever again to trust profession. Some sage Mammas with gesture haughty, Pronounce me quite a youthful Sinner -- But Daughters say, 'although he's naughty, You must not check a Young Beginner!' I've loved, and many damsels know it -- But whom I don't intend to mention, As certain stanzas also show it, Some say deserving Reprehension. Some ancient Dames, of virtue fiery (Unless Report does much belie them), Have lately made a sharp Enquiry, And much it grieves me to deny them. Two whom I loved had eyes of Blue, To which I hope you've no objection; The Rest had eyes of darker Hue -- Each Nymph, of course, was all perfection. But here I'll close my chaste Description, Nor say the deeds of animosity; For silence is the best prescription, To physic idle curiosity. Of Friends I've known a goodly Hundred -- For finding one in each acquaintance, By some deceived, by others plunder'd, Friendship, to me, was not Repentance. At School I thought like other Children; Instead of Brains, a fine Ingredient, Romance, my youthful Head bewildering, To Sense had made me disobedient. A victim, nearly from affection, To certain very precious scheming, The still remaining recollection Has cured my boyish soul of Dreaming. By Heaven! I rather would forswear The Earth, and all the joys reserved me, Than dare again the specious Snare, From which my Fate and Heaven preserved me. Still I possess some Friends who love me -- In each a much esteem'd and true one; The Wealth of Worlds shall never move me To quit their Friendship, for a new one. But Becher! you're a reverend pastor, Now take it in consideration, Whether for penance I should fast, or Pray for my sins in expiation. I own myself the child of Folly, But not so wicked as they make me -- I soon must die of melancholy, If Female smiles should e'er forsake me. Philosophers have never doubted, That Ladies' Lips were made for kisses! For Love! I could not live without it, For such a cursed place as This is. Say, Becher, I shall be forgiven! If you don't warrant my salvation, I must resign all Hopes of Heaven! For, Faith, I can't withstand Temptation. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE UNDERWORLD by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): MEDEA BETRAYED by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS TO THE MARQUIS LA FAYETTE by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD ON A DREAM by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) THE WANDERER: 4. IN SWITZERLAND: THE HEART AND NATURE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON STREET MUSIC by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON HAYING, VERMONT AND GINGER DRINK COORDINATED by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY |