Poem 11

Fame says, my mistress loves another swain;
Would I were deaf, when Fame repeats the wrong!
All crimes to her imputed, give me pain,
Not change my love: Fame, stop your saucy tongue!

Poem 10

If from the bottom of my lovesick heart,
Of last night's coyness I do not repent;
May I no more your tender anguish hear,
No longer see you shed the' impassion'd tear.
You grasp'd my knees, and yet to let you part—
O night more happy with Cerinthus spent!
My flame with coyness to conceal I thought,
But this concealment was too dearly bought.

Poem 8

At last the fair's determin'd not to go:
My lord! you know the whimsies of the sex.
Then let us gay carouse, let odours flow;
Your mind no longer with her absence vex.
For oh! consider, time incessant flies;
But every day's a birth-day to the wise!

Poem 4

On my account, to grief a ceaseless prey,
Dost thou a sympathetic anguish prove?
I would not wish to live another day,
If my recovery did not charm my love:
For what were life, and health, and bloom to me,
Were they displeasing, beauteous youth! to thee?

Habit

As inky crows lodge in a snow-clad wood
And smutch its fairness, so black thoughts in thee
Shake the ill birds from every snow-bowed tree
Be pure, by Heaven's grace! Alas! who could?
For these have built their nests, and now they come,
Will you or will you not, to seek their home:
The snows may come and go,—these will not flee.

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