To a Young Lady on Her Birth-day, Being the First of April

Let others write for by-designs, I seek some moral in my lines, Which whosoever reads must bear, Or great, or learn'd, or young, or fair; Permit me then, with friendly lay, To moralize your April day.

Checquer'd your native month appears With sunny gleams, and cloudy tears; 'Tis thus the world our trust beguiles, Its frowns as transient as its smiles; Nor pain nor pleasure long will stay, For life is but an April day.

Health will not always last in bloom, But age or sickness surely come; Are friends belov'd? why fate must seize Or these from you, or you from these: Forget not earnest in your play, For youth is but an April day.

When piety and fortune move Your heart to try the bands of love, As far as duty gives you power, Guiltless enjoy the present hour: Gather your rose-buds while you may, For love is but an April day.

What clouds soe'er without are seen, Oh, may they never reach within! But virtue's stronger fetters bind The strongest tempest of the mind: Calm may you shed your setting ray, And sunshine end your April day.