You ask where is my Passionate Silk prose,
The Pathway strewn with the Heart\'s grazed desires;
The Melody of Words the Love-Lost knows,
The Contrast in Nature all Verse Requires.
Nightingale and Lark with Attendance made,
Heaven\'s lamp to the Pale dutiful Moon;
The Leafy Bowers where Affections trade
And all Honey\'ed talk through intimate Noon.
All of Poetry\'s Toys I\'ll render to you,
But drab words never Fire the Readers Eye;
To see a Rose is to Value it\'s bloom,
To describe such is desolate and dry.
No Poetic labours will fill my Nights;
My Lips alone must all Passion ignite.