She Who Ne'er Answers Till A Husband

Learn To Live Well, Or Fairly Make Your Will; You've Play'd, And Lov'd, And Ate, And Drank Your Fill: Walk Sober Off, Before A Sprightlier Age Comes Titt'ring On, And Shoves You From The Stage.

Dear Fatal Name! Rest Ever Unreveal'd, Nor Pass These Lips In Holy Silence Seal'd. Hide It, My Heart, Within That Close Disguise, Where Mixed With Gods, His Lov'd Idea Lies: O Write It Not, My Hand - The Name Appears Already Written - Wash It Out, My Tears! In Vain Lost Eloisa Weeps And Prays, Her Heart Still Dictates, And Her Hand Obeyes.

The Sound Must Seem An Echo To The Sense.

To Rest, The Cushion And Soft Dean Invite, Who Never Mentions Hell To Ears Polite.

Happy The Man Whose Wish And Care A Few Paternal Acres Bound, Content To Breathe His Native Air In His Own Ground.