Classic Poem

A MAN who thinks as I do, and is not very vicious,
Though over head and ears in debt, will find it most delicious, —
Provided he's a Poet, and the Muses are propitious, —
To sit and sing with every thing according to his wishes!

If, in the sultry dog-days, when others are perspiring,
And grazing cows are keeping off the flies with tail untiring,
He in a grotto can recline, some lovely scene admiring,
While birds with chirping, warbling throats among the trees are quiring; —

If all the ills in Church and State he for the time is blind to,
If no dyspepsy plagues him, and his lady-love is kind too,
And nothing else below the moon he feels himself confined to,
But just to think and scribble down whatever he's a mind to:

What though his crusty creditors greet him with muttered curses?
What though his hat is " shocking bad, " or very lean his purse is?
If in the shade he, all day long, can sit and sing his verses,
I'm sure he ought to thank the Lord for all His tender mercies!