WITH walking sick, with curtseys lame, And frighted by the scolding dame, Poor Mira once again is seen Within the bounds of Goslin-Green. O Artemisia! dear to me As to the lawyer golden fee; Whose name dwells pleasant on my tongue, And first and last shall grace my song; Receive within your friendly door A wretch that vows to rove no more. In some close corner let me hide, Remote from compliments and pride; Where morals grave, or sonnets gay, Delude the guiltless, cheerful day; Where we a sprightly theme may find, Besides enquiring where's the wind, Or whispering who and who's together, And criticising on the weather; Where careless creatures, such as I, May 'scape the penetrating eye Of students in physiognomy; Who read your want of wit or grace Not from your manners, but your face; Whose tongues are for a week supplied From one poor mouth that's stretched too wide; Who greatly blame a freckled hand, A skinny arm, full shoulders; and, Without a microscope, can spy A nose that's placed an inch awry. In vain to gloomy shades you flee, Like mice, in darkness they can see; In vain to glaring lights you run, Their eyes can face a mid-day sun: You'll find no safety in retreat, Like sharks they never mince their meat; Their dreadful jaws they open throw, And, if they catch you, down you go. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHANSON INNOCENTE: 2 by EDWARD ESTLIN CUMMINGS DEATH IN THE KITCHEN by THOMAS HOOD POCAHONTAS by GEORGE POPE MORRIS THE CLOSING SCENE by THOMAS BUCHANAN READ THE TENT ON THE BEACH: 10. THE PALATINE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |