Classic Poem

Of gentle manners, and of taste refin'd,
With all the graces of a polish'd mind;
Clear sense and truth still shone in all she spoke,
And from her lips no idle sentence broke.
Each nicer elegance of art she knew;
Correctly fair, and regularly true:
Her ready fingers plied with equal skill
The pencil's task, the needle, or the quill.
So pois'd her feelings, so compos'd her soul,
So subject all to reason's calm controul,
One only passion, strong and unconfin'd,
Disturb'd the ballance of her even mind:
One passion rul'd despotic in her breast,
In every word, and look, and thought confest;
But that was Love, and Love delights to bless
The generous transports of a fond excess.