Reply to Some Verses by M…

Poem by Fanny De Beauharnais Collection Miscellaneous Fugitive Poems and Prose of No ConsequenceThemes ArrayPeriod 18th century

Yes, every time I read you,
I am pleased with myself;
You embellish my writings:
When you sing them, I love them.
Yet to speak plainly,
Your blindness is extreme:
But it suits you, as it does the Loves,
Keep their blindfold, their chimeras.
They will tell you, if they are sincere,
That errors make for beautiful days.
They seem unbearable to me,
Our overly clear-sighted critics.
I have but weak talents;
I need amiable Judges,
And who do not pass thirty years,
Gloomy reason desolates me;
I hate its calculations, its coldness,
It analyzes happiness.
While we speak of it, it flies away.
Your Works paint it better
Than sad Philosophy.
Young sages are my folly:
In ripe age, I distrust them;
And I pity them, when they are old

fanny-de-beauharnais

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