 | Poems by Bernard Barton |  |
133
VERSES
TO A YOUNG FRIEND.
If, long ere this, no lay of mine
Has been to thee devoted,
'Tis not because such worth as thine
Has idly pass'd un-noted.
Has been to thee devoted,
'Tis not because such worth as thine
Has idly pass'd un-noted.
To charms more transient, tribute due
Has oft been idly chanted;
And auburn locks, or eyes of blue,
Have gain'd what folly wanted!
Has oft been idly chanted;
And auburn locks, or eyes of blue,
Have gain'd what folly wanted!
To beauty's song and beauty's smile
My Muse has homage render'd,
And unto many a trifling wile
Some trifling meed has tender'd.
My Muse has homage render'd,
And unto many a trifling wile
Some trifling meed has tender'd.
In praising such, my short-liv'd song
Did all that I desir'd it:
It liv'd, perchance, about as long
As that which first inspir'd it.
Did all that I desir'd it:
It liv'd, perchance, about as long
As that which first inspir'd it.
Not such, my friend, the song for thee:
Did I that lyre inherit,
Which Cowper woke, its strings should be
Responsive to thy merit.
Did I that lyre inherit,
Which Cowper woke, its strings should be
Responsive to thy merit.
134
Still, such a wreath as I can twine,
Thy virtues well have won thee;
Could I an apter one assign,
I'd gladly place it on thee.
Thy virtues well have won thee;
Could I an apter one assign,
I'd gladly place it on thee.
Thou art not one whose path has been
Strew'd but with summer roses;
With sky above of blue serene,
Which never storm discloses.
Strew'd but with summer roses;
With sky above of blue serene,
Which never storm discloses.
Who tread such paths, with graceful glee,
May cull what clusters round them:
And, fading, may to memory be
Just like the flowers that crown'd them.
May cull what clusters round them:
And, fading, may to memory be
Just like the flowers that crown'd them.
But, in the bloom of youth to tread
As through a desert dreary;
With much to harass heart and head,
And many a care to weary;
As through a desert dreary;
With much to harass heart and head,
And many a care to weary;
With much to jar each mood of joy,
With much to tease and try thee,
With many a duty to employ
Each hour that passes by thee;
With much to tease and try thee,
With many a duty to employ
Each hour that passes by thee;
So circumstanc'd, to cultivate
Each flower that leisure graces;
And thus to find, in spite of fate,
Sweet spots in desert places:
Each flower that leisure graces;
And thus to find, in spite of fate,
Sweet spots in desert places:
135
To do all this, yet still to be,
In social life, a woman,
From half thy sex's follies free,
Is merit far from common.
In social life, a woman,
From half thy sex's follies free,
Is merit far from common.
Nor think this flattery! I've been taught
One maxim worth receiving,
Which every passing day has brought
Fresh motive for believing:
One maxim worth receiving,
Which every passing day has brought
Fresh motive for believing:
That flattery no excuse can find!
'Tis loath'd as soon as tasted,
When offer'd to a well-taught mind;
And on a fool 'tis wasted!
'Tis loath'd as soon as tasted,
When offer'd to a well-taught mind;
And on a fool 'tis wasted!
| Poems by Bernard Barton | |