I could call

On 2 young graces.

Silks and laces

So easily fall away.

 

I find charms

In a girl’s arms.

But they go with day

And my love of solitude

May love exclude.

 

I am glad

For I have

A kind of friend.

 

 

But all our graces

Must end

In the hard churchyard

For below

There is no pretend.