Classic Poem

When tender Rose-trees first receive,
On half-expanded Leaves, the Show'r;
Hope's gayest pictures we believe,
And anxious watch each coming flow'r.

Then, if beneath the genial Sun
That spreads abroad the full-blown May,
Two infant Stems the rest out-run,
Their buds the first to meet the day,

With joy their op'ning tints we view,
While morning's precious moments fly:
My pretty Maids, 'tis thus with you ,
The fond admiring gazer, I .

Preserve, sweet Buds, where'er you be,
The richest gem that decks a Wife;
That charm of female modesty;
And let sweet Music give it life.

Still may the fav'ring Muse be found:
Still circumspect the paths ye tread:
Plant moral truths in Fancy's ground;
And meet old Age without a dread.

Yet, ere that comes, while yet ye quaff
The cup of Health without a pain,
I'll shake my grey hairs when you laugh,
And, when you sing, be young again.