William was once a bashful youth; <br />His modesty was such, <br />That one might say (to say the truth) <br />He rather had too much. <br /> <br />Some said that it was want of sense, <br />And others want of spirit, <br />(So blest a thing is impudence), <br />While others could not bear it. <br /> <br />But some a different notion had, <br />And at each other winking, <br />Observed, that though he little said, <br />He paid it off with thinking. <br /> <br />Howe'er, it happened, by degrees, <br />He mended and grew perter; <br />In company was more at ease, <br />And dressed a little smarter; <br /> <br />Nay, now and then would look quite gay, <br />As other people do; <br />And sometimes said, or tried to say, <br />A witty thing or so. <br /> <br />He eyed the women, and made free <br />To comment on their shapes; <br />So that there was, or seemed to be, <br />No fear of a relapse. <br /> <br />The women said, who thought him rough, <br />But now no longer foolish, <br />'The creature may do well enough, <br />But wants a deal of polish.' <br /> <br />At length, improved from head to heel, <br />'Twere scarce too much to say, <br />No dancing bear was so genteel, <br />Or half so dégagé. <br /> <br /> <br />Now that a miracle so strange <br />May not in vain be shown, <br />Let the dear maid who wrought the change <br />E'er claim him for her own.<br /><br />William Cowper<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/of-himself/
