Poscimur!

A Birthday Ode for MEG or NAN,
A Rhyme for Lady FLORA’s Fan,
A Verse on Smut, who’s gone astray,
These Things are in the Poet’s way;
At Home with praise of JULIA’s Lace,
Or DELIA’s Ankles, ROSE’s Face,
But “Something overparted” He,
When asked to rhyme the jubilee!

He therefore turns, the Poet wary,
And Thumbs his Carmen Seculare,
To PHŒBUS and to DIAN prays,
Who tune Men’s Lyres of Holidays,
He reads of the Sibylline Shades,
Of Stainless Boys and chosen Maids.
He turns, and reads the other Page,
Of docile Youth, and placid Age,
Then Sings how, in this golden Year
Fides Pudorque reappear,—
And if they don’t appear, you know it
Were quite unjust to blame the Poet!