To Health Poem by William Hutton

Thou lovely Fair, with me abide,
And never after quit my side.
In sickness the most welcome guest;
Yet little notic'd when possess'd.
Treated like Time, away thou'rt toss'd,
And not regarded till thou'rt lost;
But then thy worth appears so plain
We'd give the world for thee again.
Dame Fortune's smiles insipid are
When, lovely fair one, thou'rt not there.
For title and estate, we see,
Their value lose when we lose thee.

Thou lov'st an active body best,
And much approv'st a mind at rest;
Art often found rosy and sleek;
Where idle people seldom seek
In mod'rate exercise art seen,
But never in a glass of gin.
Not courting sleep at nine, you lay,
But mushrooms hunt at break of day;
Or, should that tender upstart fail,
Then following the milking-pail.
If thy advice we don't despise,
We'll rise when Sol begins to rise.
A walking shadow thou regards,
Which measures more than twenty yards.

Some knowing people have a notion
Thou'rt seldom found in pill or potion:
Survey this in a proper light;
And ten to one their notion's right.

Thou'rt ne'er attended, as a guest,
At taverns, or a Lord Mayor's feast.
In temperance, while years run round,
And regularity, art thou found.

I have been favour'd with thy cares
For something more than seventy years;
Then ne'er let me perceive thou'rt gone,
While the decays of age creeps on.