WHEN tender Rose-trees first receive <br />On half-expanded Leaves, the Shower; <br />Hope's gayest pictures we believe, <br />And anxious watch each coining flower. <br /> <br />Then, if beneath the genial Sun <br />That spreads abroad the full-blown May, <br />Two infant Stems the rest out-run, <br />Their buds the first to meet the day, <br /> <br />With joy their op'ning tints we view, <br />While morning's precious moments fly: <br />My pretty Maids, 'tis thus with _you_; <br />The fond admiring gazer, _I_. <br /> <br />Preserve, sweet Buds, where'er you be; <br />The richest gem that decks a Wife; <br />The charm of _female modesty:_ <br />And let sweet Music give it life. <br /> <br />Still may the favouring Muse be found: <br />Still circumspect the paths ye tread: <br />Plant moral truths in Fancy's ground; <br />And meet old Age without a dread. <br /> <br />Yet, ere that comes, while yet ye quaff <br />The cup of Health without a pain, <br />I'll shake my grey hairs when you laugh, <br />And, when you sing, be young again.<br /><br />Robert Bloomfield<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-word-to-two-young-ladies/
