The Poetry Corner

Gratitude. Addressed To Lady Hesketh.

By William Cowper

This cap, that so stately appears, With ribbon-bound tassel on high, Which seems by the crest that it rears Ambitious of brushing the sky: This cap to my cousin I owe, She gave it, and gave me beside, Wreathd into an elegant bow, The ribbon with which it is tied. This wheel-footed studying chair, Contrived both for toil and repose, Wide-elbowd, and wadded with hair, In which I both scribble and dose, Bright-studded to dazzle the eyes, And rival in lustre of that In which, or astronomy lies, Fair Cassiopeia sat: These carpets so soft to the foot, Caledonias traffic and pride! Oh spare them, ye knights of the boot, Escaped from a cross-country ride! This table, and mirror within, Secure from collision and dust, At which I oft shave cheek and chin And periwig nicely adjust: This moveable structure of shelves, For its beauty admired and its use, And charged with octavos and twelves, The gayest I had to produce; Where, flaming in scarlet and gold, My poems enchanted I view, And hope in due time, to behold My Iliad and Odyssey too: This china, that decks the alcove, Which here people call a buffet, But what the gods call it above Has neer been reveald to us yet: These curtains that keep the room warm Or cool, as the season demands, Those stoves that for pattern and form Seem the labour of Mulcibers hands: All these are not half that I owe To one, from our earliest youth, To me ever ready to show Benignity, friendship, and truth; For Time, the destroyer declared And foe of our perishing kind, If even her face he has spared, Much less could he alter her mind. Thus compassd about with the goods And chattels of leisure and ease, I indulge my poetical moods In many such fancies as these; And fancies I fear they will seem Poets goods are not often so fine; The poets will swear that I dream When I sing of the splendour of mine.