I, my dear, was born to-day-
So all my jolly comrades say:
They bring me music, wreaths, and mirth,
And ask to celebrate my birth:
Little, alas! my comrades know
That I was born to pain and woe;
To thy denial, to thy scorn,
Better I had ne'er been born:
I wish to die, even whilst I say-
'I, my dear, was born to-day.'
I, my dear, was born to-day:
Shall I salute the rising ray,
Well-spring of all my joy and woe?
Clotilda, thou alone dost know.
Shall the wreath surround my hair?
Or shall the music please my ear?
Shall I my comrades' mirth receive,
And bless my birth, and wish to live?
Then let me see great Venus chase
Imperious anger from thy face;
Then let me hear thee smiling say-
'Thou, my dear, wert born to-day.'
On My Birthday, July 21
Matthew Prior
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Poem topics: alone, anger, hair, joy, pain, spring, receive, great, hear, face, bring, celebrate, live, salute, chase, birth, music, dear, Valentine's Day, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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