 A Song of a Young Lady to Her Ancient Lover by John Wilmot Read for LibriVox.org by Amber Ruby Ancient Person For Whom I O'er the Flattering Youth Defy Long be it ere thou grow old, Aking, Shaking, Crazy, Cold, But still continue as thou art, Ancient Person of my Heart On thy withered lips and dry, Which like barren furrows lie, Brooding kisses I will pour, Shall thy youthful heart restore Such kind showers in autumn fall, And a second spring recall, Nor from thee will ever part, Ancient Person of my Heart. Thy nobler parts, Which but to name in our sex Would be counted shame, By ages frozen grasp possessed, From their ice shall be released, And soothed by my reviving hand, In former warmth and vigor stand. All a lover's wish can reach, For thy joy my love shall teach, And for thy pleasure shall improve All that art can add to love. Yet still I love thee without art, Ancient Person of my Heart. A Song of a Young Lady to Her Ancient Lover by John Wilmot Read for LibriVox.org by Dana Meilinger in September 2009 Ancient Person for whom I owe the fluttering youth defy, Long be it or thou grow old, Aking, shaking, crazy, cold, But still continue as thou art, Ancient Person of my Heart. On thy withered lips and dry, Which like barren furrows lie, Brooding kisses I will pour, Shall thy youthful heart restore, Such kind showers in autumn fall, And a second spring recall, Or from thee will ever part, Ancient Person of my Heart. Thy nobler parts which but to name In our sex would be counted shame, By ages frozen grasp possessed, From their ice shall be released, And soothed by my reviving hand, In former warmth and vigor stand. All a lover's wish can reach, For thy joy my love shall teach, And for thy pleasure shall improve, All that art can add to love. Yet still I love thee without art, Ancient Person of my Heart. A Song of a Young Lady to Her Ancient Lover by John Wilmot Read for LibriVox.org by Don Hutchins Pacific Palace, say it's California. Ancient Person for whom I owe the fluttering youth defy, Long be it or thou grow old, Aking, shaking, crazy, cold, But still continue as thou art, Ancient Person of my Heart. On thy withered lips and dry, Which like barren furrows lie, Brooding kisses I will pour, Shall thy youthful heart restore, Such kind showers in autumn fall, And a second spring recall, From thee will ever part, Ancient Person of my Heart. Thou nobler parts which but to name In our sex would be counted shame. By ages frozen grasp possessed, From their ice shall be released, And soothed by my reviving hand, In former warmth and vigor stand. All a lover's wish can reach, For thy joy my love shall teach, And for thy pleasure shall improve All that art can add to love. Yet still I love thee without art, Ancient Person of my Heart. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. A Song of a Young Lady to Her Ancient Lover by John Wilmot Read for LibriVox.org by Joy Chan. Ancient Person, for whom I all the flattering youth defy, Long be it ere thou grow old, Aking, shaking, crazy, cold, But still continue as thou art, Ancient Person of my Heart. On thy withered lips and dry, Which like barren furrows lie, Brooding kisses I will pour, Shall thy youthful heart restore, Such kind shards in autumn fall, And a second spring recall. Nor from thee will ever part, Ancient Person of my Heart. Thy nobler parts, which but to name In our sex would be counted shame. By ages frozen grasp possessed, From their ice shall be released, And soothed by my reviving hand, In former warmth and vigor stand. All a lover's wish can reach, For thy joy my love shall teach, And for thy pleasure shall improve All that art can add to love. Yet still I love thee without art, Ancient Person of my Heart. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. A Song of a Young Lady to Her Ancient Lover by John Wilmot Read for LibriVox.org by Jennifer Stearns. Concord New Hampshire. Ancient Person, for whom I, All the fluttering youth defy, Long be it air, thou grow old, Aking, shaking, crazy cold, But still continue as thou art, Ancient Person of my Heart. On thy withered lips and dry, Which like barren furrows lie, Brooding kisses I will pour, Shall thy youthful heart restore, Such kind shards in autumn fall, And a second spring recall, For from thee will ever part, Ancient Person of my Heart. Thy noble parts, which but to name, In our sex would be counted shame, By ages frozen, grass possessed, From their eyes shall be relished. And soothed by my reviving hand, In former warmth and vigor stand. All a lover's wish can reach, For thy joy my love shall teach, And for thy pleasure shall improve All that art can add to love. Still I love thee without art, Ancient Person of my Heart. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Song of a Young Lady, to her Ancient Lover, By John Wilmot. Read for LibriVox.org by Raven Notation. Ancient Person, for whom I, All the fluttering youth defy, Long be it air, thou grow old, Aking, shaking, crazy cold, But still continue as thou art, Ancient Person of my Heart. On thy withered lips and dry, Which like barren furrows lie, Brooding kisses I will pour, Shall thy youthful heart restore, Such kind showers in autumn fall, And a second spring recall, More from thee will ever part, Ancient Person of my Heart. Thy nobler parts, which but to name, In our sex would be counted shame, By ages frozen grass possessed, From their ice shall be released, And soothed by my reviving hand, In former warmth and vigor stand. All a lover's wish can reach, For thy joy my love shall teach, And for thy pleasure shall improve, All that art can add to love, Yet still I love thee without art, Ancient Person of my Heart. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Song of a Young Lady, to her Ancient Lover, By John Wilmot. Read for LibriVox.org by Tricia G. Ancient Person, for whom I, All the flattering youth defy, Long be it ere thou grow old, Aking, shaking, crazy cold, But still continue as thou art, Ancient Person of my Heart. On thy withered lips and dry, Which like barren furrows lie, Brooding kisses I will pour, Shall thy youthful heart restore, Such kind showers in autumn fall, And a second spring recall, Nor from thee will ever part, Ancient Person of my Heart. Thy nobler parts, which but to name, In our sex would be counted shame, By ages frozen grass possessed, From their ice shall be released, And soothed by my reviving hand, In former warmth and vigor stand. All a lover's wish can reach, For thy joy my love shall teach, And for thy pleasure shall improve, All that art can add to love. Yet still I love thee without art, Ancient Person of my Heart. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Song of a Young Lady, to her Ancient Lover. By John Wilmot. Read for LibriVox.org by Victoria Grace. Ancient Person, for whom I, All the flattering youth defy, Long be it ere thou grow old, Aking, shaking, crazy cold, But still continue as thou art, Ancient Person of my Heart. On thy withered lips and dry, Which like barren furrows lie, Brooding kisses I will pour, Shall thy youthful heart restore, Such kind showers in autumn fall, And a second spring recall, Nor from thee will ever part, Ancient Person of my Heart. Thy nobler parts which but to name In our sex would be counted shame, By ages frozen grass possessed, From their ice shall be released, And soothed by my reviving hand In former warmth and vigor stand. All a lover's wish can reach, For thy joy my love shall teach, And for thy pleasure shall improve, All that art can add to love. Yet, still I love thee without art, Ancient Person of my heart. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain.