Listen for pity - I impeach
  The tyrant Love that, after play,
Dribbles on Beauty's cheek, and still
  Refuses to be moved away.

That, not content with many a kiss
  Plays with his fingers on her lip;
And if she turns her back to him,
  Drums with his hand on either hip.

Sometimes he squeezes, then he slaps,
  I've heard he even bites her breast.
Now, how can Beauty keep her charms,
  If she gets neither sleep nor rest?

Is there no punishment, I ask -
  No small corrections, soft and mild?
For let us never once forget
  That, after all, he's but a child.