Classic Poem

Thy Heifer, Friend, is hardly broak,
Her Neck uneasy to the Yoke;
She cannot draw the Plough, nor bear
The weight of the obliging Steer:
In flowry Meads is her Delight,
Those charm her Tast and please her sight:
Or else she flies the burning Beams
To quench her Thirst in cooler Streams;
Or with the Calves thro Pastures plays,
And wantons all her easy days:
Forbear, design no hasty Rape
On such a green, untimely Grape:
Soon ruddy Autumn will produce
Plump Clusters, ripe, and fit to use;
She now that flies, shall then pursue,
She now that's courted doat on you:
For Age whirls on, and every year
It takes from Thee it adds to Her:
Soon Lalage , shall soon proclaim
Her Love, nor blush to own her Flame:
Lov'd more, for she more kindly Warms
Than Phloe , coy, or Cloris Charms,
So pure her Breast, so fair a White,
As in a clear and smiling Night,
In quiet Floods the Silver Moon
Of Cretan Gyges never shone;
Who, plac'd amongst the Maids, defies
A skilful Stranger's prying Eys;
So smooth his doubtful Looks appear,
So loose, so Womanish his Hair.