Lady Mary Wortley Montagu

The screech-owl, with ill-boding cry,
Portends strange things, old women say;
Stops every fool that passes by,
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The screech-owl, with ill-boding cry,
Portends strange things, old women say;
Stops every fool that passes by,
And frights the school-boy from his play.

Be pain in dress, and sober in your diet;
In short, my deary, kiss me! and be quiet.

Be pain in dress, and sober in your diet;
In short, my deary, kiss me! and be quiet.

'Tis a sort of duty to be rich, that it may be in one's power to do good, riches being read more

'Tis a sort of duty to be rich, that it may be in one's power to do good, riches being another word for power.

Satire should, like a polished razor keen,
Wound with a touch that's scarcely felt or seen.
Thine read more

Satire should, like a polished razor keen,
Wound with a touch that's scarcely felt or seen.
Thine is an oyster knife, that hacks and hews;
The rage but not the talent to abuse.

See how that pair of billing doves
With open murmurs own their loves
And, heedless of censorious read more

See how that pair of billing doves
With open murmurs own their loves
And, heedless of censorious eyes,
Pursue their unpolluted joys:
No fears of future want molest
The downy quiet of their nest.