Classic Poem

yes tis an easy thing to view,
With firmness every charm recede,
See age descend with hoary dew,
And tinge the beauties of the head—
Snatch from the form the graceful air,
And Cloud the sparkle of the eye,
But oh! each mental blosom spare,
And grant that they may never die.—
I sigh not for the blooming cheek,
The slender waist or glossy hair,
Nor heed the smoothness of my neck—
But give unto my ardent prayer
To feel the pulse within my heart,
Beat high with friendships sacred glow,
And all its energy impart,
To souls Congenial here below.
The mild affections in my breast,
Abstracted delicate refin'd,
Each sweet Idea there impressd,
Such as might suit a Seraphs mind.—
The active mind that studies o'er,
New plans to benefit mankind,
And joins the will with all its power,
To practice what it hath design'd.
The flame of genius burning bright,
Reflecting from parnassian spires,
While wit and sentiment unite,
To trim the mild celestial fires.—
May sweetness elegance and taste—
With chearfulness the friend of health,
On every scene a lustre cast,
That far exceeds the misers wealth.
Thus the sweet source of mental Joy,
Can bring delight to every hour,
And time that does each grace destroy,
Is quite disarm'd of all its power.—