TO IRIS, IN BOW STREET, CONVENT GARDEN
20 lines✦
AY, cruel IRIS, pretty rake,Dear mercenary beauty,What annual offering shall I make,Expressive of my duty? My heart, a victim to thine eyes, 5Should I at once deliver,Say, would the angry fair one prizeThe gift, who slights the giver? A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy,My rivals give—and let ’em; 10If gems, or gold, impart a joy,I’ll give them—when I get ’em. I’ll give—but not the full-blown rose,Or rose-bud more in fashion;Such short-liv’d offerings but disclose 15A transitory passion. I’ll give thee something yet unpaid,Not less sincere, than civil:I’ll give thee—Ah! too charming maid,I’ll give thee—To the devil. 30
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