On the Death of Richard West
In vain to me the smiling Mornings shine,
And reddening Phœbus lifts his golden fire;
The birds in vain their amorous descant join;
. . .
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On Education
When infant Reason first exerts her sway,
And new-formed thoughts their earliest charms display;
Then let the growing race employ your care . . .
On Inhabiting an Orange
All our roads go nowhere.
Maps are curled
To keep the pavement definitely
. . .
On the Lawn at the Villa
On the lawn at the villa—
That’s the way to start, eh, reader?
We know where we stand—somewhere expensive— . . .
On Monsieur’s Departure
I grieve and dare not show my discontent,
I love and yet am forced to seem to hate,
I do, yet dare not say I ever meant,
. . .
On Shakespeare. 1630
What needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones,
The labor of an age in pilèd stones,
Or that his hallowed relics should be hid . . .
On An Unsociable Family
O what a strange parcel of creatures are we,
Scarce ever to quarrel, or even agree;
We all are alone, though at home altogether, . . .
On Virtue
O thou bright jewel in my aim I strive
To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare
Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach.
. . .
One Art
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster. . . .
The Other Side of This World
Put my glad rags in a cardboard box—
This old jiggerboo never grew mature.
Is everthing in its place except me? . . .
