Since the Road of Life's so ill; <br />I, to pass it, use this Skill, <br />My frail Carriage driving home <br />To its latest Stage, the Tomb. <br />Justice first, in Harness strong, <br />Marches stedfastly along: <br />Charity, to smooth the Pace, <br />Fills the next adjoining Trace: <br />Independance leads the Way, <br />Whom no heavy Curb do's sway; <br />Truth an equal Part sustains, <br />All indulg'd the loosen'd Reins: <br />In the Box fits vig'rous Health, <br />Shunning miry Paths of Wealth: <br />Gaiety with easy Smiles, <br />Ev'ry harsher Step beguiles; <br />Whilst of Nature, or of Fate <br />Only This I wou'd intreat: <br />The Equipage might not decay, <br />Till the worn Carriage drops away.<br /><br />Anne Kingsmill Finch<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-equipage/
