Reason, Folly, And Beauty. (Italian Air.)

A poem by Thomas Moore

Reason and Folly and Beauty, they say,
Went on a party of pleasure one day:
Folly played
Around the maid,
The bells of his cap rung merrily out;
While Reason took
To his sermon-book--
Oh! which was the pleasanter no one need doubt,
Which was the pleasanter no one need doubt.

Beauty, who likes to be thought very sage.
Turned for a moment to Reason's dull page,
Till Folly said,
"Look here, sweet maid!"--
The sight of his cap brought her back to herself;
While Reason read
His leaves of lead,
With no one to mind him, poor sensible elf!
No,--no one to mind him, poor sensible elf!

Then Reason grew jealous of Folly's gay cap;
Had he that on, he her heart might entrap--
"There it is,"
Quoth Folly, "old quiz!"
(Folly was always good-natured, 'tis said,)
"Under the sun
There's no such fun,
As Reason with my cap and bells on his head!"
"Reason with my cap and bells on his head!"

But Reason the head-dress so awkwardly wore,
That Beauty now liked him still less than before;
While Folly took
Old Reason's book,
And twisted the leaves in a cap of such ton,
That Beauty vowed
(Tho' not aloud),
She liked him still better in that than his own,
Yes,--liked him still better in that than his own.

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