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Poem by Robert Bloomfield A Word to Two Young Ladies WHEN tender Rose-trees first receive On half-expanded Leaves, the Shower; Hope's gayest pictures we believe, And anxious watch each coining flower. Then, if beneath the genial Sun That spreads abroad the full-blown May, Two infant Stems the rest out-run, Their buds the first to meet the day, With joy their op'ning tints we view, While morning's precious moments fly: My pretty Maids, 'tis thus with _you_; The fond admiring gazer, _I_. Preserve, sweet Buds, where'er you be; The richest gem that decks a Wife; The charm of _female modesty:_ And let sweet Music give it life. Still may the favouring Muse be found: Still circumspect the paths ye tread: Plant moral truths in Fancy's ground; And meet old Age without a dread. Yet, ere that comes, while yet ye quaff The cup of Health without a pain, I'll shake my grey hairs when you laugh, And, when you sing, be young again. Robert Bloomfield Robert Bloomfield's other poems:
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