Classic Poem

Behold, wherever she does pass,
How all the am'rous Trees contend,
Whose loaded Arms should her embrace ,
While with their fruit tow'rds her they bend ;
As if the willing Branches meant,
To her, their Bounty to present .

The upper Boughs all bending low,
Her raised Arm seem to prevent;
While those, that level with her grow,
To meet her easie hand consent.
To court her thus, Lo, ev'ry Peach ,
Submits it self, within her reach.

These she prefers, refusing those ,
Unhappy, in their rip'ning last;
Persuaded by her Eye to choose,
As that , the colour'd fruit does tast ;
Which her Desire does gently move
To what her Sense , did first approve.

Fair, as this golden Fruit here seems,
The Sun , with kind Salutes thus streaks ,
And gilding them with am'rous Beams ,
Prints purple Kisses , on their Cheeks :
Kisses, soft as that tender Down ,
Which their yong blushing Cheeks does crown.

Ah! could the fair, who this does see,
Be by this great Example won,
And learn but thus to smile on me ;
As they smile on the kissing Sun .
Bright , as their Cheeks , with Kisses shine,
Hers, brighter should appear with mine .