AND now the slipper strikes the ground, And now the blind man's eyes are bound, They turn him round, and round, and round, His horses are "black, white, and grey;" He cannot guess the fingers three, Sure token that he cannot see, So let him catch the wight he may. Ah! now "pinch-spotted as the pard," He asks them why they pinch so hard? Now gaily claims the forfeit kiss With eager lips, for blushing Miss Must ransom silver thimbles so, -- And Time, as he goes laughing past, Such eyes that shine, such cheeks that glow, Regrets that he must fly so fast. Now Winter joins a graver set, Just met -- perchance as we are met In close divan -- but not their parts, So gravely ask if trumps be hearts? Or hearts be trumps? spades, diamonds, clubs, Or mourning fickle Fortune's rubs, Sitting so wistfully and mute, To trump, revoke, or follow suit. 'Tis theirs to speak of better things Than e'en Court Honours, Knaves, and Kings -- Which, with the odd trick and the stake, And all the rest, the Deuce may take -- 'Tis theirs to ask if one may trace The mind, the heart, within the face? Or whether Satire's venom'd sting From Envy and ill-nature spring? If people fill the planets bright? And whence their life, and heat, and light? Then leave the skies, to ask, and show The springs from whence ideas flow. Or cut vile Prejudice in shreds, To analyse the Hydra's heads. And what is Taste? and does the stage Or pulpit most to mend the age; Or musing o'er the olden time, Talk o'er its chivalry sublime, Or turn to Chymistry's deep page -- Then last, not least, they wisely ask, What man himself -- his moral nature? Or view their country's laws and task The Flaws in Civil Judicature. Happy are those who thus can meet And find such conversations sweet! Happy are those who thus can chuse Such blameless themes, that oft amuse, And oft improve. No stories sprung From Envy's heart to Satire's tongue, No praise oblique that ends in blame, No Scandal, loving to condemn All virtue but her own -- the gem That's foil'd upon another's shame. No Pride disdaining to resign Its very errors for the right, Nor Anger with more heat than light, Nor Vanity that burns to shine. Thus, then, we meet, and if ye bring Wit, Beauty, Sense, and ev'ry thing Ye took away -- and Mirth, and Health, That have more honey-sweets than wealth. Welcome! thrice welcome! -- whether come From Paris -- Islington -- or Rome, Or even Como's far-famed lake, A warm, and heartfelt Welcome take! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CLOSING TIME AT THE SAN DIEGO ZOO by KAREN SWENSON SPECIMEN OF AN INDUCTION TO A POEM by JOHN KEATS THE TRAVAIL OF PASSION by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS WITH A COPY OF CALVERLEY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE SLEEPY SONG by JOSEPHINE DODGE DASKAM BACON VENETIAN BLIND by HELEN DARBY BERNING THE CONSOLATION OF PHILOSOPHY: BOOK 3 by ANICIUS MANLIUS SEVERINUS BOETHIUS |