@3Nymph@1. WHY sigh you, swain? this passion is not common Is't for your kids or lambkins? @3Shep@1. For a woman. @3Nymph.@1 How fair is she that on so sage a brow Prints lowering looks? @3Shep.@1 Just such a toy as thou. @3Nymph.@1 Is she a maid? @3Shep.@1 What man can answer that? @3Nymph.@1 Or widow? @3Shep.@1 No. @3Nymph.@1 What then? @3Shep.@1 I know not what; Saint-like she looks, a Syren if she sing. Her eyes are stars, her mind is everything. @3Nymph.@1 If she be fickle, shepherd, leave to woo, Or fancy me. @3Shep.@1 No, thou art woman too. @3Nymph.@1 But I am constant. @3Shep.@1 Then thou art not fair. @3Nymph.@1 Bright as the morning. @3Shep.@1 Wavering as the air. @3Nymph.@1 What grows upon this cheek? @3Shep.@1 A pure carnation. @3Nymph.@1 Come, taste a kiss. @3Shep.@1 O sweet, O sweet temptation! @3Chorus.@1 Ah, Love! and canst thou never lose the field? Where Cupid lays the siege, the town must yield. He warms the chiller blood with glowing fire, And thaws the icy frost of cold desire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPILOGUE TO THE SATIRES: DIALOGUE 1 by ALEXANDER POPE FOR MY OWN TOMBSTONE by MATTHEW PRIOR MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 13 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THREE GUESTS by ETHEL SKIPTON BARRINGER AMERICA (2) by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT WRITTEN ON A BLANK LEAF OF HANNAH MORE'S WORKS by ROBERT BURNS |