Classic Poem

PART III.

The Bridegroom .

A little sister, fair and young,
Does to our family belong:
Her breasts appear not yet, 'tis true;
What shall we for our sister do,
When she begins to get a name,
When growing beauties spread her fame?
If, by the firmness of her mind,
She seems a wall, for strength design'd;
A palace on that wall we'll found,
Glittering with silver all around:
If like a gate, built to defend
From foes, and to admit a friend;
With cedar boards we'll fence her well,
Of lasting strength and fragrant smell.

The B RIDE .

Such is the firmness of my mind,
I am a wall for strength design'd;
My breasts are grown, and now appear
Like two fair towers built for my dear.
When thus I spake, his smiles I gain'd,
With them his very heart obtain'd.