To Mrs. M. B. on Her Birthday

Written to Martha Blount in 1723. Lines 5–10 were elsewhere adapted for a versified celebration of his own birthday, and for an epitaph on a suicide!

OH, be thou blest with all that Heav’n can send,

Long Health, long Youth, long Pleasure, and a Friend:

Not with those Toys the female world admire,

Riches that vex, and Vanities that tire.

With added years if Life bring nothing new,

But, like a sieve, let ev’ry blessing thro’,

Some joy still lost, as each vain year runs o’er,

And all we gain, some sad Reflection more;

Is that a birthday? ’t is alas! too clear,

’T is but the funeral of the former year.

Let Joy or Ease, let Affluence or Content,

And the gay Conscience of a life well spent,

Calm ev’ry thought, inspirit ev’ry grace,

Glow in thy heart, and smile upon thy face.

Let day improve on day, and year on year,

Without a Pain, a Trouble, or a Fear;

Till Death unfelt that tender frame destroy,

In some soft dream, or extasy of joy,

Peaceful sleep out the Sabbath of the Tomb,

And wake to raptures in a life to come.

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