LUCY, you brightnesse of our spheare, who are Life of the Muses day, their morning-starre! If workes (not th'authors) their owne grace should looke, Whose poemes would not wish to be your booke? But these, desir'd by you, the makers ends Crowne with their owne. Rare poemes aske rare friends. Yet, Satyres, since the most of mankind bee Their un-avoided subject, fewest see: For none ere tooke that pleasure in sinnes sense, But, when they heard it tax'd, tooke more offence. Then, they, that living where the matter is bred, Dare for these poemes, yet, both aske, and read, And like them too; must needfully, though few, Be of the best: and 'mongst those, best are you. LUCY, you brightnesse of our spheare, who are The Muses evening, as their morning-starre. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SCINTILLA by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE THE MAN HE KILLED by THOMAS HARDY SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 92 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 10. TO THE MUSE by MARK AKENSIDE DESCRIBES THE PLACE WHERE CYNTHIA IS SPORTING HERSELF by PHILIP AYRES FOUR EPISTLES: MIRACLE AT THE FEAST OF PENTECOST: 1 by JOHN BYROM SECOND BOOK OF AIRS: TO HENRY, LORD CLIFFORD by THOMAS CAMPION THE BOROUGH: LETTER 15. INHABITANTS OF ALMS HOUSE. CLELIA by GEORGE CRABBE |