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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=426402" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Stella’s Birth-Day. 1724-5</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">As when a beauteous nymph decays,<br>We say she's past her dancing days;<br>So poets lose their feet by time,<br>And can no longer dance in rhyme.<br>Your annual bard had rather chose<br>To celebrate your birth in prose:<br>Yet merry folks, who want by chance<br>A pair to make a country dance,<br>Call the old housekeeper, and get her<br>To fill a place for want of better:<br>While Sheridan is off the hooks,<br>And friend Delany at his books,<br>That Stella may avoid disgrace,<br>Once more the Dean supplies their place.<br>Beauty and wit, too sad a truth!<br>Have always been confined to youth;<br>The god of wit and beauty's queen,<br>He twenty-one and she fifteen,<br>No poet ever sweetly sung,<br>Unless he were, like Phoebus, young;<br>Nor ever nymph inspired to rhyme,<br>Unless, like Venus, in her prime.<br>At fifty-six, if this be true,<br>Am I a poet fit for you?<br>Or, at the age of forty-three,<br>Are you a subject fit for me?<br>Adieu! bright wit, and radiant eyes!<br>You must be grave and I be wise.<br>Our fate in vain we would oppose:<br>But I'll be still your friend in prose:<br>Esteem and friendship to express,<br>Will not require poetic dress;<br>And if the Muse deny her aid<br>To have them sung, they may be said.<br>But, Stella, say, what evil tongue<br>Reports you are no longer young;<br>That Time sits with his scythe to mow<br>Where erst sat Cupid with his bow;<br>That half your locks are turn'd to gray?<br>I'll ne'er believe a word they say.<br>'Tis true, but let it not be known,<br>My eyes are somewhat dimmish grown;<br>For nature, always in the right,<br>To your decays adapts my sight;<br>And wrinkles undistinguished pass,<br>For I'm ashamed to use a glass:<br>And till I see them with these eyes,<br>Whoever says you have them, lies.<br>No length of time can make you quit<br>Honour and virtue, sense and wit;<br>Thus you may still be young to me,<br>While I can better hear than see.<br>O ne'er may Fortune show her spite,<br>To make me deaf, and mend my sight!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Jonathan+Swift">Jonathan Swift</a><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=426402" data-title="Stella’s Birth-Day. 1724-5 de Jonathan Swift" data-description="As when a beauteous nymph decays,
We say she's past her dancing days;
So poets lose their feet by time,
And can no longer dance in rhyme.
Your annual bard had rather chose
To celebrate your birth in prose:
Yet merry folks, who want by chance
A pai..."></div>
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