Classic Poem

I N her dimpled smile are seen
Traces of the Cyprian Queen;
In her voice a note is heard
Sweet as Night's enchanting Bird.
Art from Nature took the file
Us'd in polishing her style ;
Nor has Genius, Wit, and Sense,
Parted from her eloquence ;
Wing'd as light is every note
Which her youthful pencil wrote,
Nor has Memory a page
For the dull records of Age;
All is there as brightly neat
As a dancing Grace's feet.
But a charm above the rest
Is the unsuspecting breast ;
There, above Deffand to rise,
Though resembled in their eyes;
There, and with perennial flowers,
Time has chain'd his feather'd hours.