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From a Poem for the Birthday of the
Lady Cathrine Tufton.
......
Deep lines of honor all can hit,
Or mark out a superior wit;
Consummate goodness all can show
And where such graces shine below:
But the more tender strokes to trace,
To express the promise of a face,
When but the dawnings of the mind.
We from an air unripen'd find;
Which altering, as new moments rise.
The pen or pencil's art defies; 10
When flesh and blood in youth appears,
Polish'd like what our marble wears;
Fresh as that shade of opening green,
16
