Pity the sorrows of a Poor Old Maid, Who long a Proud Coquette disdain inspir'd, Who long a beauteous face and form display'd, And flush'd with flattery herself admir'd. Amidst the throng in Theatres and Parks, I used to shine in newest fashions dress'd, Receive the homage of the Dashing Sparks, And fired with envy every female breast. As time advanced mankind forsook my train, I then with Birds and Beasts some comfort found, But now, oppress'd with sorrow I complain, For, Oh, my Parrot's dead -- my Monkey's drown'd! My tender Cat, as gentle as a dove, Lur'd by her favourite to the garret high, Fell -- headlong fell -- a victim to her love, And on an iron rail was doomed to die! My darling Pug, the kindest of his race, Bit by an ugly cur one fatal morn, A victim fell to madness, dire disease, And left his Mistress wretched and forlorn! Then soothe the sorrows of a worn-out fair, Whose former follies bid her now repent, Whose days pass on with grief and pining care, Whose nights in unavailing tears are spent! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POPULARITY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH FABLE: 16 by ANTOINE VINCENT ARNAULT CRYING, 'THALASSUS!' by JOSEPH AUSLANDER LONG LIVE LIFE by JACQUES BARON INTIMATE VISION by JOSEPHINE BATES UNVEILING THE MONUMENT by LEVI BISHOP INSPIRATION by GRACE HOLBROOK BLOOD |