English poetry

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An Elegy On The Glory Of Her Sex, Mrs Mary Blaize

Good people all, with one accord
Lament for Madam Blaize,
Who never wanted a good word,-
From those who spoke her praise.

The needy seldom passed her door,
And always found her kind;
She freely lent to all the poor,-
Who left a pledge behind.

She strove the neighbourhood to please
With manners wondrous winning;
And never followed wicked ways,-
Unless when she was sinning.

At church, in silks and satins new,
With hoop of monstrous size,
She never slumbered in her pew,-
But when she shut her eyes.

Her love was sought, I do aver,
By twenty beaux and more;
The king himself has followed her,-
When she has walked before.

But now her wealth and finery fled,
Her hangers-on cut short all;
The doctors found, when she was dead,-
Her last disorder mortal.

Let us lament in sorrow sore,
For Kent Street well may say
That had she lived a twelvemonth more,-
She had not died today.


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Poem An Elegy On The Glory Of Her Sex, Mrs Mary Blaize - Oliver Goldsmith