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Poem	Cou'd we stop the time that's flying Or recall itt when 'tis past Put far off the day of Dying Or make Youth for ever last To Love wou'd then be worth our cost. But since we must loose those Graces Which at first your hearts have wonne And you seek for in new Faces When our Spring of Life is done It wou'd but urdge our ruine on Free as Nature's first intention Was to make us, I'll be found Nor by subtle Man's invention Yeild to be in Fetters bound By one that walks a freer round. Mariage does but slightly tye Men Whil'st close Pris'ners we remain They the larger Slaves of Hymen Still are begging Love again At the full length of all their chain.
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