Classic Poem

Lest gossip wakes, be mute, breathe not a word
Of how, or where, or when, save that we met;
To chance, or luck, or fortune bid the fault,
Till ye can tell how else our friendship came.
Improved occasions are not often rued,
Except discretion fails in self-command.

As brief a while as may a friendship live
No one can tell, so soon it dies, or how,
Now as it came, and as a seed expands,
In nurture soon springs up; so sprang, matured
Each time the more a favor in regard.

As first of chance, unsought till then, but now
Let favor choose if she may hold the power
Drawn from the font of pleasure to supply
Enticing sweets, which, though you took, rebelled.
Reigned o'er the scene the silvery moon, which smiled,
Together with the stars, in silent joy.
Of that she deemed no harm, was sweetly pleased!
Neptune breathed silence and supplied the chance.