Dear aunt, in the olden time of love

Dear aunt, in the olden time of love,
When women like slaves were spurned,
A maid gave her heart, as she would her glove,
To be teased by a fop, and returned!
But women grow wiser as men improve,
And, tho' beaux, like monkeys, amuse us,
Oh! think not we 'd give such a delicate gem
As the heart to be played with or sullied by them;
No, dearest aunt, excuse us.

We may know by the head on Cupid's seal
What impression the heart will take;
If shallow the head, oh! soon we feel
What a poor impression 't will make!
Tho' plagued, Heaven knows! by the foolish zeal
Of the fondling fop who pursues me,
Oh, think not I 'd follow their desperate rule,
Who get rid of the folly by wedding the fool;
No, dearest aunt! excuse me.
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.