Stella’s Birthday, 1718
Stella this day is thirty-four(We shan’t dispute a year or more)However, Stella, be not troubled,Although thy size and years are doubledSince first I saw thee at sixteen,The brightest virgin on the green.So little is thy form declined;Made up so largely in thy mind.
Oh, would it please the gods to splitThy beauty, size, and years, and wit,No age could furnish out a pairOf nymphs so graceful, wise, and fair:With half the lustre of your eyes,With half your wit, your years, and size.And then, before it grew too late,How should I beg of gentle fate,(That either nymph might lack her swain),To split my worship too in twain.