Classic Poem

C ORINNA , in the bloom of youth,
Was coy to every lover;
Regardless of the tenderest truth,
No soft complaints could move her:
Mankind was hers, and at her feet
Lay prostrate and adoring,
The witty, valiant, rich and great
Alike in vain imploring.

But now grown old she would repair
The loss of time and pleasure;
With willing looks, and wanton air,
Inviting every gazer.

But love's a summer flower, that dies
With the first weather's changing.
The lover, like the swallow, flies
From sun to sun still ranging.

Cloe, let this example move
Your foolish heart to reason:
Youth is the proper time for love,
And age is virtue's season.