To Two of the Graces

Miss Vardill

When brides a sugar’d cake divide,
 Their emblem they contrive ill:
Of all the compounds Love has tried,
 The best is but a Trifle!
Cool common-sense the basis makes,
 With wit enough to stir ye;
Like frosted rows of almond cakes
 Well steep’d in sparkling sherry.
Then Fancy whisks the custard up,
 Good Temper helps to sweeten;
But like the cream in Pleasure’s cup,
 Wives sometimes should be beaten.
Thus froth above and frost below
 The The feast of love & life fill — 
Then take this trifling gift — you know
 The best is but a Trifle!