Classic Poem

Thou rosy Goddess of the Plains,
Where Innocence, thy Sister, reigns,
If Goodness can deserve thy Care,
To Godlike * * * *'s Couch repair;
Let him thy matchless Charms enjoy;
What Nymph to * * * * can be coy?
Nor shou'd thy Favours be deny'd
To him who spreads thy Empire wide,
When Want and all her gloomy Train,
Pining Disease and racking Pain,
On poor afflicted Mortals prey
His Bounty drives those Ills away;
Swift as the Shadows wing their Flight,
Before the purple dawning Light.
Come young-ey'd Maid, serenely gay,
With healing Looks and Breath of May ;
His Virtues to our Wishes give,
And guard that Life by whom we live.