Young I was, but now am old, But I am not yet grown cold; I can play, and I can twine 'Bout a Virgin like a Vine: In her lap too I can lye Melting, and in fancie die: And return to life, if she Claps my cheek, or kisseth me; Thus, and thus it now appears That our love out-lasts our yeeres. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT MAGNOLIA CEMETERY by HENRY TIMROD THE CHILD IN A GARDEN by MARIA ABDY CURE FOR AFFLICTIONS by ARCHILOCHUS FINDING CYNTHIA IN PAIN, AND CRYING; A SONNET by PHILIP AYRES CAPTAIN BING by LYMAN FRANK BAUM THE SLEEPING BEAUTY by MATHILDE BLIND ON THE BEACH AT EVENING by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |