Safe to find it as a setter—
Then you’ll wish you’d hearkened me—
Do not write your love a letter!
Oh, those letters read in Court!
How the tender things seem stupid!
How deep feeling seems but sport!
How young Momus trips up Cupid!
Take my warning then—or soon,
O’er your folly you’ll be fretter,
Saying, “Why, poor, foolish spoon,