Poem by Samuel Johnson

To Mrs. Thrale on Her Completing Her Thirty-Fifth Year

Oft in danger, yet alive,
We are come to thirty-five;
Long may better years arrive,
Better years than thirty-five.
Could philosophers contrive
Life to stop at thirty-five,
Time his hours should never drive
O'er the bounds of thirty-five
High to soar, and deep to dive,
Nature gives at thirty-five.
Ladies, stop and tend your hive,
Trifle not at thirty-five;
For, howe'er we boast and strive,
Life declines from thirty-five:
He that ever hopes to thrive
Must begin by thirty-five:
And all who wisely wish to wive
Must look on Thrale at thirty-five. 

1. To Myrtilis - The New Year's Offering
2. On the Death of Stephen Grey, F.R.S.
3. Parody of a Translation from the Medea of Euripides
4. To Miss --
5. From the Medea of Euripides

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