Although I put away his life --

Although I put away his life --
An Ornament too grand
For Forehead low as mine, to wear,
This might have been the Hand

That -- sowed the flower, he preferred --
Or smoothed a homely pain,
Or pushed the pebble from his path --
Or played his chosen tune --

On Lute the least -- the latest --
But just his Ear could know
That whatsoe'er delighted it,
I never would let go --

The foot to bear his errand --
A little Boot I know --
Would leap abroad like Antelope --
With just the grant to do --

His weariest Commandment --
A sweeter to obey,
Than "Hide and Seek" --
Or skip to Flutes --
Or All Day, chase the Bee --

Your Servant, Sir, will weary --
The Surgeon, will not come --
The World, will have it's own -- to do --
The Dust, will vex your Fame

The Cold will force your tightest door
Some Febuary Day,
But say my apron bring the sticks
To make your Cottage gay --

That I may take that promise
To Paradise, with me --
To teach the Angels, avarice,
You, Sir, taught first -- to me.