Classic Poem

Nature indulgent, provident, and kind,
In all things that excel some use design'd.
The radiant sun, of ev'ry heav'nly light
The first, (did Mira not dispute that right)
Sends from above ten thousand blessings down,
Nor is he set so high for show alone;
His beams reviving with auspicious fire,
Freely we all enjoy what all admire.
The moon and stars, those faithful guides of night,
Are plac'd to help, not entertain, the sight.
Plants, fruits, and flow'rs, the fertile fields produce,
Nor for vain ornament, but wholesome use;
Health they restore, and nourishment they give;
We see with pleasure, but we taste to live.
Then think not, Mira! that thy form was meant
More to create desire than to content.
Would the just gods so many charms provide
Only to gratify a mortal's pride?
Would they have form'd thee so above thy sex
Only to play the tyrant, and to vex?
'Tis impious pleasure to delight in harm,
And beauty should be kind as well as charm.