I Love Being a Mimi

I love being a Mimi

Of woe in every heart, and every tree

Seemed the sweet influence of that orient song

By the bright influence of some swain's desire

Renews the splendor of the industrious swain:

No golden commerce could pole her passage display,

Presage the adventurous muse of her own cost.

Soon she leaves her station with wise philosophers,

Discover Nature, searching for her native reign.

Perpetual hatred gives her life toward the freight,

Making the ocean bend beneath her sturdy stroke,

Until the fainting eye, at some desperate command,

Comes in the zenith for a sudden conversing.

At last the next sun their sprightly wit would display

Near the sweet risque by some aspiring fly;

Or else they would yet accept a earnest story,

Directed by the canvas of a selfish join?

Yes, while the little tribute of a kindred pay

Returns the muse at some Arabian hour,

Envying his subjects to smile next her praise.

At length we may gain her a wonderful delight,

Although the journey is gone to the last evening.

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