Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, LETTER TO MISS E.B. AT BATH, by MARY SAVAGE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

LETTER TO MISS E.B. AT BATH, by                    
First Line: To doggerel now I turn my pen
Last Line: Is the sincere wish of yours &c.
Subject(s): Bath, England; Friendship


To doggerel now I turn my pen:
A time may come (but lord knows when)
That I may try to think again.
At present in my brain there floats
A thousand parti-coloured motes;
From which, if time would but permit,
I might sift out some sparks of wit;
And many a line in verse and prose
Are lost, whilst half-asleep I doze.
My pineal gland could you but view,
You'd scarce believe your eyes see true:
There's such a jumble; good and bad,
All sorts of thoughts, may there be had;
Like broker's shop, where we may find
Goods that belonged to half mankind;
Which, should the master dare produce,
Are little worth, and out of use;
And joy would sparkle in his face,
Could he put better in their place.
Thus oft, from shop of brain, I try
To throw the dirt and rubbish by;
But still they gain their former state,
Or leave a vacuum in the pate.

And plagued I am, against my mind,
With thoughts, by far too much refined,
That preach a doctrine, out of fashion,
Of tender love and inclination;
Which fancy, ere our youth is past,
Vainly concludes will always last;
In words and gestures still the same,
As when they both were nymph and swain.

Then skims across my rambling head
Thoughts of the absent and the dead;
Of what's to eat, and what's to drink;
Of children's welfare then I think;
Next, wonder if you've -- read;
Then wish to get by twelve to bed;
Declare no more at home I'll stay;
Was Garrick here, I'd to the play:
`Then why not go to church?' they'd say;
I don't pretend myself to know,
But sure religion is but show.
What the good saint did erst declare,
That we should always be at prayer,
Was never meant that we should be
For ever on our bended knee:
And though I have not time to read,
Or say at church my mother creed,
A sigh sincere may wing its way,
Though round the room the cat's at play.

Thus far as sample I produce,
To show my head's of little use;
Till, roused to a more active scene,
I throw aside this waking dream;
And laying idle schemes apart,
Set hand to plough with all my heart;
And only snatch an hour to prove
I still am yours, in friendly love;
And wish sincerely you may find
Your pleasure and your health still joined:
And if you come to town to stay,
Desire you'll pass with me one day;
And pray don't fail to write a line
In answer to this scrawl of mine,
Which (stranger to your dwelling-place)
I mean shall bar of Pump Room grace.

Oh! should it fail to reach your hand,
And there a public victim stand,
What food for laughter I should be,
To those who nothing know of me;
But let that prove as it may hap;
I'm now inclined to take a nap;
Adieu, my friend -- in every state,
May ease and plenty be thy fate,
Is the sincere wish of yours &c.





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