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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=114993" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To the same (Mr. L-----) I</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dear Sir, when late in town you chose<br>To correspond no more in prose,<br>My viscious muse---(but 'tis in vain<br>Of her abuses to complain)---<br>Neglects to aid, as I expected,<br>And so I must be self-directed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You've broke th' agreement, Sir, I find;<br>(Excuse me, I must speak my mind)<br>It seems, in your poetic fit,<br>You mind not jingling, when there's wit;<br>And so to write like Donne you chose,<br>Whose prose was verse, and verse was prose:<br>From common tracts of rhyming stray,<br>And versify another way.<br>Indeed it suits, I must aver,<br>A genius to be singular.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On F---r kept in durance vile,<br>Did once more erring fortune smile:<br>Again he would extend his ray,<br>And shine his riches all away.<br>Birch said, (and what he said I sing)<br>'A shilling is a serious thing;'<br>But like Icarus, F---r springs,<br>Where suns dissolv'd his waxen wings:<br>No more the wings his weight sustain,<br>He plunges headlong in the main:<br>The shades of death steal o'er his eyes;<br>And to black Styx the spirit flies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Life is a grand vicissitude<br>Of pain and health, of ill and good:<br>Your goose now mourns a murder'd mate,<br>(Attend while I the fact relate)<br>He chanc'd upon a cloudless morn,<br>To wander in our neighbour's corn;<br>Perhaps he thought all lands were free,<br>And none had private property;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or sure he ne'er had trod the plain,<br>And pick'd, like Eve, forbidden grain:<br>Careless he fed, in graceful ease<br>And sweet simplicity of geese.<br>Ill-fated bird! he there was kill'd<br>By man, the tyrant of the field.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His widow's wing, Oh dire relation!<br>Next underwent sad amputation:<br>Weep not, dear Sir, at this abuse;<br>She bears it like a patient goose:<br>I fear the widow is a prude,<br>Or matters sooner would conclude;<br>Or else you have a coward heart,<br>And fear to act the suitor's part.<br>Of all the things beneath the sun, you know,<br>Faint heart fair lady never won. Adieu.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ann+Eliza+Bleecker">Ann Eliza Bleecker</a> from <i>The Posthumous Works of Ann Eliza Bleecker</i><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=114993" data-title="To the same (Mr. L-----) I de Ann Eliza Bleecker" data-description="Dear Sir, when late in town you chose/To correspond no more in prose,/My viscious muse---(but 'tis in vain/Of her abuses to complain)---/Neglects to aid, as I expected,/And so I must be self-directed./You've broke th' agreement, Sir, I find;/(Excu..."></div>
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