Cyriack, whose grandsire on the royal bench <br />Of British Themis, with no mean applause, <br />Pronounced, and in his volumes taught, our laws, <br />Which others at their bar so often wrench, <br />To-day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench <br />In mirth that after no repenting draws; <br />Let Euclid rest, and Archimedes pause, <br />And what the Swede intend, and what the French. <br />To measure life learn thou betimes, and know <br />Toward solid good what leads the nearest way; <br />For other things mild Heaven a time ordains, <br />And disapproves that care, though wise in show, <br />That with superfluous burden loads the day, <br />And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.<br /><br />John Milton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-cyriack-skinner/
