Advice to Young Women

Young women! don't be fond of killing,
Too well I know your hearts unwilling
To hide beneath the vail a charm--
Too pleased a sparkling eye to roll,
And with a neck to thrill the soul
Of every swain with love's alarm.

Yet, yet, if prudence be not near
Its snow may melt into a tear.

The dimple smile, and pouting lip,
Where little Cupids nectar sip,
Are very pretty lures I own:
But, ah! if prudence be not nigh,
Those lips where all the Cupids lie,
May give a passage to a groan.

A Rose, in all the pride of bloom,
Flinging around her rich perfume
Her form to public notice pushing,
Amid the summer's golden glow
Peeped on a Strawberry below,
Beneath a leaf, in secret blushing.

"Miss Strawberry," exclaimed the Rose,
"What's beauty that no mortal knows?
What is a charm, if never seen?
You really are a pretty creature:
Then wherefore hide each blooming feature?
Come up, and show your modest mien."

"Miss Rose," the Strawberry replied,
"I never did possess a pride
That wished to dash the public eye:
Indeed, I own that I'm afraid--
I think there's safety in the shade,
Ambition causes many a sigh."

"Go, simple child," the Rose rejoined,
"See how I wanton in the wind:
I feel no danger's dread alarms:
And then observe the god of day,
How amorous with his golden ray,
To pay his visits to my charms!"

No sooner said, but with a scream
She started from her favorite theme--
A clown had on her fixed his pat.
In vain she screeched--Hob did but smile;
Rubbed with her leaves his nose awhile,
Then bluntly stuck her in his hat.