WITS that matur'd by time have courted praise, Shall see their works outdone in these Essays; And blush to know, thy earlier years display A dawning, clearer than their brightest day. Yet I'll not praise thee, for thou hast outgrown The reach of all men's praises, but thine own. Encomiums to their objects are exact; To praise, and not at full, is to detract. And with most justice are the best forgot, For praise is bounded when the theme is not: Since mine is thus confin'd, and far below Thy merit, I forbear it, nor will show How poor the autumnal pride of some appears, To the ripe fruit thy vernal season bears. Yet though I mean no praise, I come t' invite Thy forward aims still to advance their flight; Rise higher yet, what though thy spreading wreath Lessen to their dull sight who stay beneath? To thy full learning how can all allow Just praise, unless that all were learn'd as thou? Go on in spite of such low souls, and may Thy growing worth know age, though not decay, Till thou pay back thy theft; and live to climb As many years as thou hast snatch'd from Time. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SOMETIME by MAY LOUISE RILEY SMITH TO A SQUIRREL AT KYLE-NA-NO by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ON THE DEATH OF MRS. MARTINEAU by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE PILGRIM SHIP by KATHARINE LEE BATES THE VIVANDIERE ('70) by WILLIAM ROSE BENET IN MEMORIAM by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON |