Classic Poem

To a young Gentlewoman

See how this infant bud, so lately borne,
Swelld with the Springs warme breath and dew o'th'morne,
Contracted in its folded leaves doth beare
The richest treasure of the teeming yeare,
By whose young growing beauties conquerd yield
The full-blowne glories of the painted field,
And, thus surpast, do jointly all confesse
Nature hath here done more in doing lesse.
Such is thy early beauty, such appeares
That blooming Sweetnes which thy soft cheek weares;
To this new Deity our vowes we pay,
And on thy virgin shrine our offerings lay;
Whilst blind Idolaters, who did before
The reliques of some vulgar Saint adore,
Or some decaying beauty learnt t'admire,
Shall here renew their new expiring fire,
And, in the change, confesse thou dost outshine
Their setting beauties by the dawne of thine.