The arcade exhibits a thousand such tresses
What are Mummies like these to the maiden I love?
Oh! cease to affirm that your sex since its birth
From Eve until now, has with coming age strove,
Some portion of nature still is on earth
In the delicate blush of the maiden I love.
When age chills your blood, and your pleasures are passed,
And your youth fled away on the wings of the dove;
Why caricature you, still to the last
The natural bloom of the maiden I love.