Lords, knights, and squires, the num'rous band, <br />That wear the fair Miss Mary's fetters, <br />Were summon'd by her high command, <br />To show their passions by their letters. <br /> <br />My pen amongst the rest I took, <br />Lest those bright eyes that cannot read <br />Should dart their kindling fires, and look <br />The pow'r they have to be obey'd. <br /> <br />Nor quality, nor reputation, <br />Forbid me yet my flame to tell, <br />Dear Five-years-old befriends my passion, <br />And I may write till she can spell. <br /> <br />For while she makes her silk-worms beds <br />With all the tender things I swear; <br />Whilst all the house my passion reads, <br />In papers round her baby's hair; <br /> <br />She may receive and own my flame, <br />For though the strictest prudes should know it, <br />She'll pass for a most virtuous dame, <br />And I for an unhappy poet. <br /> <br />Then too, alas! when she shall tear <br />The lines some younger rival sends; <br />She'll give me leave to write, I fear, <br />And we shall still continue friends. <br /> <br />For as our different ages move, <br />'Tis so ordain'd (would Fate but mend it) <br />That I shall be past making love, <br />When she begins to comprehend it.<br /><br />Matthew Prior<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-a-child-of-quality-five-years-old-the-author/
