 | Poetics |  |
221
ODE X. A SONG.
They say, my hopes have fruitless prov'd,
And all my schemes of life miscarried;
And all, because I never lov'd;
And all, because I never married.
And all my schemes of life miscarried;
And all, because I never lov'd;
And all, because I never married.
I penn'd a song to please the fair;
—To sing of love I never tarried,—
But ladies ask'd with taunting air,
How should he love, who ne'er was married?
—To sing of love I never tarried,—
But ladies ask'd with taunting air,
How should he love, who ne'er was married?
And oft I sit, and sigh alone,
Like ring-dove from its mate far-carried;
Yet few there are who heed my moan:
For why, they ask, is he not married?
Like ring-dove from its mate far-carried;
Yet few there are who heed my moan:
For why, they ask, is he not married?
Yet there are those I sometimes see,
Who say, because I have miscarried
In all my loves, they pity me;
And much they wish that I was married.
Who say, because I have miscarried
In all my loves, they pity me;
And much they wish that I was married.
222
When sick and sad, and sometimes poor,
Their kindness never, never tarried;
They pitied me, as being sure,
Few pity those who are not married.
Their kindness never, never tarried;
They pitied me, as being sure,
Few pity those who are not married.
And when beneath that dart I lie,
That barbed dart, which ne'er miscarried,
I know for one they'll heave a sigh,
Who much has lov'd, tho' never married.
That barbed dart, which ne'er miscarried,
I know for one they'll heave a sigh,
Who much has lov'd, tho' never married.
| Poetics | |