Classic Poem

God knows, Prudilla , while you pray,
Which Saint you chuse, what Words you say;
But what you wish , we shrewdly guess,
In your Devotion , and Distress ,
And this beyond all Doubt we know,
None of your Vows to Heaven go;
For still your rich, old Aunt 's alive ,
And you're a Maid at Thirty Five ,
In Love, despis'd; in Debt, and poor:
An Atheist scarce cou'd suffer more.