On A Window At An Inn (Epigrams On Windows)

We fly from luxury and wealth,
To hardships, in pursuit of health;
From generous wines, and costly fare,
And dozing in an easy-chair;
Pursue the goddess Health in vain,
To find her in a country scene,
And every where her footsteps trace,
And see her marks in every face;
And still her favourites we meet,
Crowding the roads with naked feet.
But, oh! so faintly we pursue,
We ne'er can have her full in view.

Jonathan Swift

Jonathan Swift was an Anglo-Irish satirist, essayist, political pamphleteer, poet and cleric who became Dean of St Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin. Swift is remembered for works such as "A Tale of a Tub" (1704), "An Argument Against Abolishing Christianity" (1712), and "Gulliver's Travels" (1726). Swift originally published all of his works under pseudonyms—such as Lemuel Gulliver, Isaac Bickerstaff, Drapier's Letters as MB Drapier—and works were sometimes attributed to Anonymous.

Jonathan Swift

On The Union

Jonathan Swift, Simple Poetry

A Riddle

Jonathan Swift, Simple Poetry

On Psyche[1]

Jonathan Swift, Simple Poetry

Verses By Stella

Jonathan Swift, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

At An Inn In England (Epigrams On Windows)

The glass, by lovers' nonsense blurr'd,
    Dims and obscures our sight;
So, when our passions Love has stirr'd,
    It darkens Reason's light.

Jonathan Swift

On Seeing Verses Written Upon Windows At Inns (Epigrams On Windows)

The sage, who said he should be proud
    Of windows in his breast,[1]
Because he ne'er a thought allow'd
    That might not be confest;
His window scrawl'd by every rake,
    His breast again would cover,
And fairly bid the devil take
    The diamond and the lover.

Jonathan Swift

Another Written Upon A Window Where There Was No Writing Before (Epigrams On Windows)

Thanks to my stars, I once can see
A window here from scribbling free!
Here no conceited coxcombs pass,
To scratch their paltry drabs on glass;
Nor party fool is calling names,
Or dealing crowns to George and James.

Jonathan Swift

Another, At Chester (Epigrams On Windows)

My landlord is civil,
But dear as the d - l:
Your pockets grow empty
With nothing to tempt ye;
The wine is so sour,
'Twill give you a scour,
The beer and the ale
Are mingled with stale.
The veal is such carrion,
A dog would be weary on.
All this I have felt,
For I live on a smelt.

Jonathan Swift

On Another Window[1]

A bard, on whom Phoebus his spirit bestow'd,
Resolving t'acknowledge the bounty he owed,
Found out a new method at once of confessing,
And making the most of so mighty a blessing:
To the God he'd be grateful; but mortals he'd chouse,
By making his patron preside in his house;
And wisely foresaw this advantage from thence,
That the God would in honour bear most of th'expense;
So the bard he finds drink, and leaves Phoebus to treat
With the thoughts he inspires, regardless of meat.
Hence they that come hither expecting to dine,
Are always fobb'd off with sheer wit and sheer wine.

Jonathan Swift

Verses Written On A Window, At The Deanery House, St. Patrick's

Are the guests of this house still doom'd to be cheated?
Sure the Fates have decreed they by halves should be treated.
In the days of good John[1] if you came here to dine,
You had choice of good meat, but no choice of good wine.
In Jonathan's reign, if you come here to eat,
You have choice of good wine, but no choice of good meat.
O Jove! then how fully might all sides be blest,
Wouldst thou but agree to this humble request!
Put both deans in one; or, if that's too much trouble,
Instead of the deans, make the deanery double.

Jonathan Swift