Classic Poem

Addressed to a Lady on her little Girl, aged four Years.

Miss
Not all that am'rous Poets fain,
As strong as Fancy nerves their Strain,
Nor Venus, Laughter-loving Fair,
Can to such op'ning Sweets compare;
You are Heaven's peculiar Care.
How sprightly charming, what a Tongue!
O'er thy dear Prattle how I hung;
On my fond Knee how didst thou fit,
Keen in Remarks, of such a Wit,
E'en grown-up Mortals must submit.