THo all the  should  be,
There could be found no  for thee:
Thy  like  thy fair intangling
Curl'd, and  as  Milky
Like them thy  appear, for so
from the  they go.
But oh! To what may I thy  compare?
Since fragrant  not half so fair.
The  ne'r with such a  blusht,
When from the  of  she rusht.
The ripe  are but
To those fresh  that thy Cheeks do
Thy  and  in Whiteness, do out-goe
or descending
And till the  of that  Day,
When all my  I display,
And Chase, at once, the Injurious  away:
I'll on the  of  reside,
And pass the time with thee my
My  in whom such vast  meet,
As renders her
Then, come with me, from  my
O come, and look beyond this Scene of
Thou may'st, and yet it is but  see
The  I have prepar'd for thee:
So  she looks, that in blest Transports I,
Meet the  of her eye;
My All on Earth, my  and my
Whom, from a Vast Etornity I chose:
Not Golden Goblets, Crown'd with noble Wine
E're gave such  as
Such, as the soft expressions of thy Love;
those charming  move.
My  is like a  Wall'd,
Or some reserved  seal'd;
Whose Waves, untouch't, through secret Channels slide,
Untainted, as the  that glide
From Heaven, assaulting  and
As Beauteous  Gilded Currents were.