Stella this day is thirty-four, <br />(We shan't dispute a year or more:) <br />However, Stella, be not troubled, <br />Although thy size and years are doubled, <br />Since first I saw thee at sixteen, <br />The brightest virgin on the green; <br />So little is thy form declin'd; <br />Made up so largely in thy mind. <br /> <br />Oh, would it please the gods to split <br />Thy beauty, size, and years, and wit; <br />No age could furnish out a pair <br />Of nymphs so graceful, wise, and fair; <br />With half the lustre of your eyes, <br />With half your wit, your years, and size. <br />And then, before it grew too late, <br />How should I beg of gentle Fate, <br />(That either nymph might have her swain,) <br />To split my worship too in twain.<br /><br />Jonathan Swift<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stella-s-birthday-march-13-1719-2/
