Classic Poem

When the wind blows, walk not abroad,
For, Maids, you may not know
The mad, quaint thoughts which incommode
Me when the winds do blow.

What though the tresses of the treen
In doubled beauty move,
With silver added to their green,
They were not made for Love.

But when your clothes reveal your thighs
And surge around your knees,
Until from foam you seem to rise,
As Venus from the seas ...

Though ye are fair, it is not fair!
Unless you will be kind,
Till I am dead, and changed to AIR ,
O walk not in the wind!