Mary Barber (1690-1757 / England)
An Apology For My Son To His Master, For Not Bringing An Exercise On The Coronation Day.
Why are we Scholars plagu'd to write,
On Days devoted to Delight?
In Honour of the King, I'd play
Upon his Coronation Day:
But as for Loyalty in Rhyme,
Defer that to another Time.
Now to excuse this to my Master--
(This Want of Rhyme's a sad Disaster)
Sir, we confess you take great Pains,
And break your own, to mend our Brains.
You strive to make us learn'd, and wise;
But to what End? -- We shall not rise:
In vain should at Preferment aim,
Whilst Strangers make their happier Claim.
Why should we labour to excel,
Doom'd in Obscurity to dwell?
Then, since our Welfare gives you Pain,
(And yet your Toil may prove in vain)
I wish, for your, and for our Ease,
That all were Coronation Days.
Poet Other Poems
- A Letter For My Son To One Of His School...
- A Letter Sent To Mrs. Barber
- A Letter To A Friend,
- A Letter Written For My Daughter To A La...
- A Letter Written For My Son To A Young G...
- A Letter Written From London To Mrs. Str...
- A True Tale
- Advice To The Ladies At Bath. Written By...
- An Apology For My Son To His Master, For...
- An Apology For The Clergy,
- An Apology To Dr. Clayton, Bishop Of Kil...
- An Apology To The Earl Of Orrery
- An Apology Written For My Son To His Mas...
- An Apology Written For My Son To The Rev...
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.