Such perfect bliss, fair Chloris, we In our enjoyments prove, 'Tis pity restless jealousy Should mingle with our love. Let us, since wit has taught us how, Raise pleasure to the top: You rival bottle must allow, I'll suffer rival fop. Think not in this that I design A treason 'gainst love's charms, When, following the god of wine, I leave my Chloris' arms, Since you have that, for all your haste (At which I'll ne'er repine), Will take its liquor off as fast As I can take off mine. There's not a brisk, insipid spark That flutters in the town, But with your wanton eyes you mark Him out to be your own; Nor do you think it worth your care How empty and how dull The heads of your admirers are, So that their cods be full. All this you freely may confess, Yet we ne'er disagree, For did you love your pleasure less, You were no match for me. Whilst I, my pleasure to pursue, Whole nights am taking in The lusty juice of grapes, take you The juice of lusty men. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CONSERVATIVE by CHARLOTTE PERKINS STETSON GILMAN EPITAPHIUM CITHARISTRIAE by VICTOR GUSTAVE PLARR EARLY RISING by JOHN GODFREY SAXE UNDERWOODS: BOOK 1: 8. TO MINNIE (WITH A HAND-GLASS) by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON SONNET: TO J.M.K. by ALFRED TENNYSON HERACLES AND MELEAGER by BACCHYLIDES |