I, MY dear, was born to-day-- <br />So all my jolly comrades say: <br />They bring me music, wreaths, and mirth, <br />And ask to celebrate my birth: <br />Little, alas! my comrades know <br />That I was born to pain and woe; <br />To thy denial, to thy scorn, <br />Better I had ne'er been born: <br />I wish to die, even whilst I say-- <br />'I, my dear, was born to-day.' <br />I, my dear, was born to-day: <br />Shall I salute the rising ray, <br />Well-spring of all my joy and woe? <br />Clotilda, thou alone dost know. <br />Shall the wreath surround my hair? <br />Or shall the music please my ear? <br />Shall I my comrades' mirth receive, <br />And bless my birth, and wish to live? <br />Then let me see great Venus chase <br />Imperious anger from thy face; <br />Then let me hear thee smiling say-- <br />'Thou, my dear, wert born to-day.'<br /><br />Matthew Prior<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-my-birthday-july-21/
