DEAR fellow-artist, why so free    
With every sort of company,    
With every Jack and Jill?    
Choose your companions from the best;    
Who draws a bucket with the rest      
Soon topples down the hill.    
 
You may, that mirror for a school,    
Be passionate, not bountiful    
As common beauties may,    
Who were not born to keep in trim
With old Ezekiel’s cherubim    
But those of Beaujolet.    
 
I know what wages beauty gives,    
How hard a life her servant lives,    
Yet praise the winters gone;
There is not a fool can call me friend,    
And I may dine at journey’s end    
With Landor and with Donne.

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