Classic Poem

To Mira

Kneeling before the Majesty of heav'n,
For gilded roofs my prayer never rose;
I ask'd no fertile field's delicious fruit,
Nor bent a wish to what a F LORIO plows.

With thee to share the calmer joys of life,
On thy soft bosom wear my age away;
And timely tott'ring on the verge of fate,
Look back with pleasure on each well-spent day.

I ask'd no more: — Of what avail to me
The transient honours of a fleeting hour;
The cumb'rous trappings of a large estate,
The painted hanging, and the marble floor?

Can riches blunt the dreadful dart of pain;
Or check misfortune in her mid career?
Dispel the terrors of approaching fate;
Or snatch their owners from the mournful bier?

Let want expose me to the world's contempt,
And poverty in all her rags invest;
Return, — and let the foolish world despise;
Return, — in spite of poverty I'm blest.

If heav'n, averse, reject my earnest pray'r,
And fortune fix me in these distant plains,
Cease, cease, dread sisters! your ungrateful toil,
And burn the luckless thread that yet remains.