Classic Poem

Peerless ZELINDA, Can I fitly write
The joy still lingering of Yesternight?
You dined with LADY CAROLINE, and I
In the adjacent Bower. Though so nigh
To all I worship that the World can give —
But for your Charms, ZELINDA, need I live?
You seemed, for me, more distant than the Stars.
I hazarded and lost while you waged Wars
Of Ombre. Later, on the Promenade,
Among the Throng we passed, Your fan kept guard
Upon your Glances; then you dropped your Mask.
ZELINDA, it was mine, oh, grateful task!
To snatch it from the Ground, ere PETERHAM stoops —
And tangles his red Heels with CELIA'S Hoops —
And kiss the Hand that takes it. Not your Glove
You dropped, nor Fan, nor Kerchief. For my Love
Your Mask you dropped, that all Vauxhall might see
It was ZELINDA threw her Gage to me.
What I have else to tell you, will be soon;
I'll see you at the Play this afternoon,
Or in the Park. ZELINDA, credit me,
Your humble Servant, and Eternally,