Creaks with the windy scandal of the town
Till endless malice make one’s ear-drum ache,
At one spot hammer’d sore, and o’er and o’er,
With humdrum gossip of surrounding naught.
Small gain are they, to crown our courtships grand,
Prinked out with flowers and flattery! Wise man;
Flowers draw the bee, and flattery the fool.
One stings; the other—Laugh not, Elbert, nay,
You know it well, what friendship craves; and these
Light, simpering women, testing manhood’s woof