Poems Consisting Of Essays, Lyric, Elegiac, &c. By Thomas Dermody. Written between the 13th and 16th Year of his Age |
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TO MY OWN SELF. |
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TO MY OWN SELF.
“To my own self,” what! will you sing
Sweet ditties to so mean a thing,—
Your own fair fame, presumptuous draw?
And, by my soul, I will agra!
Since no one else will take the pains,
I'll catch th'advantage of my own great brains.
Sweet ditties to so mean a thing,—
Your own fair fame, presumptuous draw?
And, by my soul, I will agra!
Since no one else will take the pains,
I'll catch th'advantage of my own great brains.
Belov'd! in whom no fault I ken,
That is not found in other men;
Whose hand would open in a minute
If it had gold or silver in it;
Whose heart is large, tho' profit small,
And open, every time, to all;
Whose eye the genuine tear of pity pours,
With poesy's most precious flow'rs,
Kindly, thy gen'rous brow I twine,
And round thy head infuse,
Fancy's rich pearls, Castalian dews,
Wishing them dews of right Falernian Wine!
Howe'er in time of need,
You'll take th'intention for the deed,
And, without qualms of heart believe,
I think you, now, the greatest man alive!
That is not found in other men;
Whose hand would open in a minute
If it had gold or silver in it;
Whose heart is large, tho' profit small,
And open, every time, to all;
Whose eye the genuine tear of pity pours,
With poesy's most precious flow'rs,
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And round thy head infuse,
Fancy's rich pearls, Castalian dews,
Wishing them dews of right Falernian Wine!
Howe'er in time of need,
You'll take th'intention for the deed,
And, without qualms of heart believe,
I think you, now, the greatest man alive!
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