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Smallpiece, Anna Maria: Written in Ill Health
#1
Ah! what avails, when sinking down to sleep,
That silken curtains shade the languid eye?
On beds of down how many wake to weep,
And break the calm of night with sorrow's sigh!

O! then, thou poor, ne'er at thy lot repine,
If o'er thy straw-stuffed bed no trappings play;
More pure thy sleep, and calmer dreams are thine,
Than those who waste in luxury their day.

If o'er thy cheek the loose-zoned goddess, Health,
With coral finger, spread her rosy hues,
Far art thou blessed, beyond the joys of wealth,

And all the joys the busy crownd pursues.
Nor more would I at little ills repine,
Were her full eye, and sparkling luster mine.
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