Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Since, my Chloe, you ask me, what Life I would choose,
I prithee distrust not the Truth of my Muse.
Tho' I tell you in Rhyme, yet believe me sincere,
I'll speak in plain terms; have the patience to hear.
To Thy Self, thy dear self, are my Wishes confin'd,
I sigh for your Person, but doat on your Mind:
So easy your Conduct, your Wit, and your Air,
'Tis the meanest perfection you have, that you're fair.
I'd repine not at Fortune, abounding or small,
Since without Thee is nothing, and with Thee is all.
For a needful support ne'ertheless I wou'd move;
'Tis hard for a Lady to live upon Love.
To the Town with content I could soon bid adieu;
I find it's Politeness all center'd in You:
To some quiet Retirement we both would repair;
Your Joy my Ambition, your Pleasure my Care.

Thus, my Angel, our Lives would roll gently away,
And Love be the Business alone of the day.
One Article more will compleat my design;
That this may be your Wish, as much as 'tis mine.