From a Child.

AS in some Climes the warmer Sun
Makes it full Summer e're the Spring's begun'
And with ripe fruit the bending boughs can load,
Before our Violets dare look abroad:
So measure not by any common use,
The early Love your brighter eyes produce.
When lately your fair hand in womens weed,
Wrap't my glad head, I wish't me so indeed,
That h…sty time might never make me grow
Out of those favours you afford me now;
That I might ever such indulgence sind,
And you not blush, or think your self too kind,
Who now I fear while I these joys express,
Begin to think how you may make them less;
The sound of Love makes your soft heart afraid,
And guard it self, though but a Child invade,
And innocently at your white brest throw
A Dart as white, a Ball of new faln snow.