To a young Lady, lately married, who had fine Eyes, but a frail Character
The Sun from whom your Eyes you stole,
Their Glances sure design'd
To warm our Sex from Pole to Pole,
And shine on all Mankind.
Now one enjoys what all desire;
The World indeed may mourn;
YeThe like Phaeton may aspire,
And in Possession burn.
Their Glances sure design'd
To warm our Sex from Pole to Pole,
And shine on all Mankind.
Now one enjoys what all desire;
The World indeed may mourn;
YeThe like Phaeton may aspire,
And in Possession burn.
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