Classic Poem

As Lesbias Sparrow, Tricksy wanton is,
And purer than the Turtle 's Kiss;
Fairer than Maids, deckt in their Morning beams,
And of more price than Indian Gems.
Tricksy , that little Bitch, is my delight,
My Sport by Day, my Love by Night.
She apprehends her Master's joy, and woe,
And wanton's, or's dejected so.
And if in play, or love she quest, or whine,
Men think she speaks in Language fine.
She rouses with me at the dawning peep,
And by my side all Night doth sleep;
So calm, so still, no sigh does interpose
Betwixt me, and my sweet repose:
Or if an accident unlook'd for come,
To ease the gripings of her Womb,
She slips no drop of any kind to stain;
Or to ill scent the counterpain:
But nimbly rises up, and whining tells
What her necessity compells.
Such innate Chastity adorns the Beast
She knows not lust; nor have we guest,
Throughout mankind, one worthy to invade,
The treasures of so fair a Maid.
And lest the Fate of her extreamest Day
Should snatch her Memory away,
We wisely have in cunning colour set,
The Beauty of her counterfeit;
In which fair Tricksy you so like may see,
That She is not more like to She .
In fine expose her, and her Shade to view
You'll think both painted; or both true.