FORTUNE, that, with malicious joy, Does man her slave oppress, Proud of her office to destroy, Is seldom pleased to bless: Still various and unconstant still, But with an inclination to be ill, Promotes, degrades, delights in strife, And makes a lottery of life. I can enjoy her while she's kind; But when she dances in the wind, And shakes her wings and will not stay, I puff the prostitute away: The little or the much she gave, is quietly resigned: Contant with poverty, my soul I arm; And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO WHISTLER, AMERICAN; ON LOAN EXHIBIT OF PAINTINGS AT TATE GALLERY by EZRA POUND AN OLD WOMAN: 2. HARVEST by EDITH SITWELL AN ORIGINAL THOUGHT by MARIA ABDY PSALM 4; AUGUST 10, 1653 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE HISTORY OF ARCADIUS AND SEPHA: BOOK 2 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |