I HATE the town, and all its ways; Ridottos, operas, and plays; The ball, the ring, the mall, the Court, Wherever the beau monde resort; Where beauties lie in ambush for folks, Earl Straffords and the Dukes of Norfolks; All coffee-houses and their praters, All courts of justice and debaters; All taverns, and the sots within 'em; All bubbles, and the rogues that skin 'em. I hate all critics; may they burn all, From Bentley to the Grub Street Journal; All bards, as Dennis hates a pun; Those who have wit, and who have none. All nobles of whatever station; And all the parsons in the nation. I hate the world crammed altogether, From beggars, up, the Lord knows whither! Ask you then, Celia, if there be The thing I love? My charmer, thee. Thee more than light, than life adore, Thou dearest, sweetest creature, more Than wildest raptures can express, Than I can tell, or thou canst guess. Then though I bear a gentle mind, Let not my hatred of mankind Wonder within my Celia move, Since she possesses all I love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CONCEPTION by DAISY MAUD BELLIS FIRST RHYMES by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN ASOLANDO: THE POPE AND THE NET by ROBERT BROWNING THE FLIGHT OF THE DUCHESS by ROBERT BROWNING THE MASACRE AT SCIO by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT UHLAND by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER HILLS OF HOME by WITTER BYNNER MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY IN PASSION WEEK: THURSDAY by JOHN BYROM |