Classic Poem

I

Sincerity, what are thy Views?
No more my Breast attend;
By thee, alas! we often lose,
But seldom gain a Friend.

II

No more with dangerous Zeal presume,
To warn whom you esteem;
Be wise, or I foresee your Doom;
Impertinence you'll seem.

III

A Thousand Ills from thee I've found,
A Thousand more I fear;
In Worlds like this should you abound?
What Bus'ness have you here?

IV

But if you still must haunt my Breast,
To Desarts we'll repair;
Or seek the Mansions of the Blest,
They know your Value there.