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William Cowper - Sonnet To A Young Lady On Her Birth-Day
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Deem not, sweet rose, that bloom`st `midst many a thorn,
Thy friend, tho` to a cloister`s shade consign`d,
Can e`er forget the charms he left behind,
Or pass unheeded this auspicious morn!
In happier days to brighter prospects born,
O tell thy thoughtless sex, the virtuous mind,
Like thee, content in every state may find,
And look on Folly`s pageantry with scorn.
To steer with nicest art betwixt th` extreme
Of idle mirth, and affectation coy;
To blend good sense with elegance and ease;
To bid Affliction`s eye no longer stream;
Is thine; best gift, the unfailing source of joy,
The guide to pleasures which can never cease!
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