Page:The works of Anna Laetitia Barbauld volume 1.djvu/219

Rh Bid rich poetic roses blow, Peeping above his heaps of snow; We '11 dress his withered cheeks in flowers, And on his smooth bald head Fantastic garlands bind: Garlands, which we will get From the gay blooms of that immortal year, Above the turning seasons set, Where young ideas shoot in Fancy's sunny bowers. A thousand pleasant arts we'll have To add new feathers to the wings of Time, And make him smoothly haste away: We'll use him as our slave, And when we please we'll bid him stay, And clip his wings, and make him stop to view Our studies, and our follies too; How sweet our follies are, how high our fancies climb.