Classic Poem

L'homme qui ne se trouve point, et ne se trouvera jamais

The Man who feels the dear Disease
Forgets himselfe, neglects to please,
The croud avoids, and seeks the Groves,
And much he thinks, when much he loves,
Press'd with alternate Hope and Fear
Sighs in her Absence, sighs when she is near;
The Gay, the fond, the Fair and young,
Those Trifflers pass unseen along,
To him, a pert insipid throng.
But most he shuns the vain Coquette,
Contemns her false affected Wit,
The Minstrels Sound, the flowing Bowl,
Oppress and hurt the Amorous Soul;
'Tis Solitude alone can please,
And give some Intervals of ease.
He feeds the soft distemper there
And fondly courts the distant Fair,
To Balls the silent shade prefers
And hates all other charms but Hers.
When thus your absent Swain can do
Molly; you may beleive him true.