A WORD TO TWO YOUNG LADIES.

WHEN tender Rose-trees first receive

On half-expanded Leaves, the Shower;

Hope's gayest pictures we believe,

And anxious watch each coining flower.

Then, if beneath the genial Sun

That spreads abroad the full-blown May,

Two infant Stems the rest out-run,

Their buds the first to meet the day,

With joy their op'ning tints we view,

While morning's precious moments fly:

My pretty Maids,‘ tis thus with you;

The fond admiring gazer, I.

Preserve, sweet Buds, where'er you be;

The richest gem that decks a Wife;

The charm of female modesty:

And let sweet Music give it life.

Still may the favouring Muse be found:

Still circumspect the paths ye tread:

Plant moral truths in Fancy's ground;

And meet old Age without a dread.

Yet, ere that comes, while yet ye quaff

The cup of Health without a pain,

I'll shake my grey hairs when you laugh,

And, when you sing, be young again.