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<h2> YOUNG BEAUTY </h2>
<p>When at each door the ruffian winds<br/>
Have laid a dying man to groan,<br/>
And filled the air on winter nights<br/>
With cries of infants left alone;<br/>
And every thing that has a bed<br/>
Will sigh for others that have none:<br/>
<br/>
On such a night, when bitter cold,<br/>
Young Beauty, full of love thoughts sweet,<br/>
Can redden in her looking-glass;<br/>
With but one gown on, in bare feet,<br/>
She from her own reflected charms<br/>
Can feel the joy of summer's heat.<br/></p>
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