The Widower

Royall Tyler

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Happy the man, who free as air,
By nuptial ties no longer bound,
With dearest wife lays every care
Low under ground.
While he with fops, sips tea with toasts;
Airy, and gay, in his attire;
Whose pride, in age, and winter's frost,
Can yield him fire.
Blest, who can unconcernedly find
Days, hours, and years, glide soft away;
Who jokes, and laughs, with vacant mind,
Though hairs grow grey.
No sleep by night--dancing and drink
Together mixt, sweet recreation!
And making love, which witlings think
Gives reputation.
Thus let me live, thus dance through life,
Thus, unconnected, let me die;
Steal from the world, without a wife

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