letra de jane barker - to my young lover - ghizela rowe
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incautious youth, why do’st thou so mis-place
thy fine encomiums on an o’er-blown face;
which after all the varnish of thy quill
its pristine wrinkles shew apparent still:
nor is it in the power of youth to move
an age-chill’d heart to any strokes of love
then chuse some budding beauty, which in time
may crown thy wishes in thy blooming prime:
for nought can make a more preposterous show
than april’s flowers stuck on st. michael’s bow
to consecrate thy first-born sighs to me
a superannuated deity;
makes that idolatry and deadly sin
which otherwise had only venial been
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