Charles Sprague

“Gay, guiltless pair,What seek ye from the fields of heaven?Ye have no need of prayer,Ye have no sins to be forgiven.”

“Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doctors’ spite;Thy clouds all other clouds dispel, And lap me in delight.”

“Behold! in Liberty’s unclouded blazeWe lift our heads, a race of other days.”

“Through life’s dark road his sordid way he wends,An incarnation of fat dividends.”

“Lo where the stage, the poor, degraded stage,Holds its warped mirror to a gaping age.”