Alexander Pope (Александр Поуп)

Celia

Celia, we know, is sixty-five,
Yet Celia's face is seventeen;
Thus winter in her breast must live,
While summer in her face is seen.

How cruel Celia's fate, who hence
Our heart's devotion cannot try;
Too pretty for our reverence,
Too ancient for our gallantry! 

1. On the Countess of Burlington Cutting Paper
2. On His Grotto at Twickenham
3. Chorus of Youths and Virgins
4. On Seeing the Ladies Crux-Easton Walk in the Woods by the Grotto
5. Verses Left by Mr. Pope

Lola Ridge (Лола Ридж) Celia ("Cherry, cherry")

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