Soon topples down the hill.

You may, that mirror for a school,

Be passionate, not bountiful

As common beauties may,

Who were not born to keep in trim

With old Ezekiel's cherubim

But those of Beaujolet.

I know what wages beauty gives,

How hard a life her servant lives,

Yet praise the winters gone;

There is not a fool can call me friend,

And I may dine at journey's end

With Landor and with Donne.

[24]

[24]

TO A YOUNG GIRL

My dear, my dear, I know

More than another

What makes your heart beat so;

Not even your own mother

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