Classic Poem

What is this Secret you'd so fain impart?
Open your own, rely upon my Heart. L. M.

I wish to tell, but I would have you guess,
And think at least that it would pain me less. L. H.

This Preface to your Question is refined,
And should I guess when I should read your Mind;
You'd fear some other might your Secret find. L. M.

My secret can be guess'd, by only you,
You see my trust — but see my Folly too. L. H.

You might be wise, and yet that Folly chuse;
Ask then, nor fear your Suit I shall refuse,
Or that your Trust I ever can abuse.
I own you're rather form'd by Heav'n to grant,
But Heav'n can only know what 'tis we want;
Mortals tho e'er so willing all to give,
Must for a welcome Gift, some Hint recieve.
You may perhaps this wary Silence blame,
But won't you chide me more if I should name? L. M.

My Question short, but long will be the pain,
I ask to one that can too well explain,
My Heart demands, you answer from the brain. L. H.

Tis true I answer only from the Brain
Fearing my Answer should be thought too plain
For since you wish to know yet fear to read
Cautious the winding Precipice I tread,
I combate Nature, have recourse to Art
And rack my Head that I may spare your Heart.
Like Rivers turn'd my Numbers useless grow,
Say shall they in their nat'ral Channel flow? L. M.

He laughs at scars who never felt a wound
(This truth long since the Gentle Romeo found)
The time may come to feel th'exstatic smart,
You may see Eyes and you may feel a Heart. L. H.

A little longer yet your Pain endure,
Nature who made the Wound, will give the Cure;
For as the Characters in Sand we trace,
If unrenew'd (tho e'er so deep) will pass;
So all Impressions which our Passions make,
By Absence smooth'd, an even Surface take;
Thus Heav'n at once both covetuous and kind,
Has constituted ev'ry human Mind,
For as we lose the Merit to be true,
In recompense we lose the Mis'ry too. L. M.

A little Love deserves not passion's name,
A Taper's light is hardly call'd a Flame,
A Transient Wind extinguishes the Fire
And a short Absence cools a small desire,
But when the Heat on the whole Vitals preys
Even Tempests but encrease the powerfull Blaze. L. H.

As Poysons other Poysons will remove,
So love may be expel'd by other Love.
This Doctrine Cleopatra held was true;
Won't Cleopatra's Medcines do for You? L. M.

Go bid the thirsty, overlabour'd swains
Seek Grecian Vines on Caledonian plains,
With equal Hope you sooth my restless mind
(To this cold Climate cursedly confin'd)
To meet a second lovely of the Kind. L. H.

These Thoughts are not from Nature but a Book,
Into our Conduct, not our Writings look;
There Men and Women equally you'll see,
Form'd by Receipts you've heard explain'd by me,
I tell you what they are, You what they ought to be. L. M.

Sway'd by no moral, or affected Rules
(By Knaves invented and observ'd by Fools)
Judge of my Future Actions by my past
And call my Conduct, nicety of Taste. L. H.

In vain you talk of what you love and hate
For when you're hungry and have Food you'll eat. L. M.

Hunger's the Motive of the unbred Clown
To whose coarse Palate, all rank meat goes down
But Hunger never rais'd the Pain I feel
Which only one can give, and only One could heal.