LINES
SENT WITH SOME INDIAN ROUGE TO MISS W——.
Go, faithless bloom! on Delia’s cheek
Your boasted captivations try;
Alas! o’er Nature would you seek
To gain one moment’s victory?
Her softer tint, sweet look, and gentle air,
Shall prove you’re but a vain intruder there.
But go, display your charms and taste;
Soon shall you blush a richer red,
To find your mimic pow’r surpass’d;
And, whilst upon her cheek you spread
Your vermeil hue, tell her ingenuous heart,
’Tis the first time she ever practis’d art.