A Young Lady to Her Ancient Lover

Ancient Person, for whom I
All the flatt'ring Youth defie;
Long be it e're thou grow old,
Aking, shaking, crasie, cold.
But still continue as thou art,
Ancient Person of my Heart.

On thy withered Lips and dry,
Which like barren Furrows lie;
Brooding Kisses I will pour,
Shall thy youthful Heart restore.
Such Kind Show'rs in Autumn fall,
And a second Spring recal:
Nor from thee will ever part,
Ancient Person of my Heart.

Thy nobler Part, which but to name,
In our Sex wou'd be counted Shame,
By Ages frozen grasp possess'd
From their Ice shall be releas'd:
And, sooth'd by my reviving Hand,
In former Warmth and Vigour stand.
All a Lover's Wish can reach,
For thy Joy my Love shall teach:
And for thy Pleasure shall improve
All that Art can add to Love,
Yet still I love thee without Art,
Ancient Person of my Heart.