Classic Poem

The tongue of the witty, the eyes of the fair,
And the pride of high damsels may plague you;
Nor pert, nor affected, nor prudish her air,
But modest and free is my Peggy .

Refin'd sensibility brightens her looks,
Smiles dwell on each delicate feature;
Her language is plain, not the language of books,
But the language of truth and good-nature.

Ye frowning pretenders to virtue severe,
Ye subduers of passions that drag you;
Away with your rigour, ye never need fear
To love and to feel like my Peggy .

When flow'rs spring apace in the late-loosen'd field,
And the fragrance of meadows invite us;
Why censure the favours my Peggy may yield,
Since hallow'd the ties that unite us?

Envy may lurk in our woodland retreat,
And malice may blacken conjecture;
But nothing our raptures, our bliss shall abate,
For innocence is our protector.

O THOU ! by whose bounty and goodness we live,
By your goodness and bounty I beg you,
Health, strength, independence, and honesty give;
And make me a match for my Peggy .