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- 'TIS true I write and tell me by what Rule
- I am alone forbid to play the fool,
- To follow through the Groves a wand'ring Muse
- And fain'd Ideas's for my pleasures chuse.
- Why shou'd it in my Pen be held a fault
- Whilst Mira paints her face, to paint a thought?
- Whilst Lamia to the manly Bumper flys
- And borrow'd Spiritts sparkle in her Eyes,
- Why shou'd itt be in me a thing so vain
- To heat with Poetry my colder Brain?
- But I write ill and there-fore shou'd forbear.
- Does Flavia cease now at her fortieth year
- In ev'ry Place to lett that face be seen
- Which all the Town rejected at fifteen?
- Each Woman has her weaknesse; mine indeed
- Is still to write tho' hopelesse to succeed.
- Nor to the Men is this so easy found;
- Ev'n in most Works with which the Witts abound
- (So weak are all since our first breach with Heav'n)
- Ther's less to be Applauded then forgiven.
- Anne Finch
Poets' Corner .
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