Classic Poem

In the first ruder age, when Love was wild,
Nor yet by laws reclaim'd, not reconciled
To order, nor by Reason mann'd, but flew
Full-summ'd by Nature, on the instant view
Upon the wings of Appetite, at all
The eye could fair, or sense delightful call;
Election was not yet: but as their cheap
Food from the oak, or the next acorn-heap,
As water from the nearest spring or brook,
So men their undistinguish'd females took
By chance, not choice: but soon the heavenly spark,
That in man's bosom lurk'd, broke through this dark
Confusion: then the noblest breast first felt
Itself for its own proper object melt.