IN Cloe's chamber, she and I Together sat, no creature nigh: The time and place conspired to move A longing for the joys of love. I sighed and kissed, and pressed her hand; Did all—to make her understand. She, pretty, tender-hearted creature, Obeyed the dictates of good-nature, As far as modesty would let her. A melting virgin seldom speaks But with her breasts, and eyes, and cheeks: Nor was it hard from these to find That Cloe had—almost a mind. Thus far 'twas well; but to proceed, What should I do?—Grow bold.—I did.— At last she faltered, 'What would'st have?'— 'Your love,' said I, 'or else my grave.'— 'Suppose it were the first,' quoth she, 'Could you forever constant be?' 'Forever? Cloe, by those eyes, Those bubbies, which so fall and rise, By all that's soft, and all that's fair, By your whole sacred self, I swear, Your fondest wishes ne'er shall craveSo constant, so complete a slave!' 'Damon, you know too well the art,' She sighing said, 'to reach my heart! Yet oh! I can't, I won't comply.— Why will you press? Dear Damon why?' * * * * * * * @3Desunt Caetera@1 For Cloe coming in one day, As on my desk the copy lay, 'What means this rhyming fool?' she cries: 'Why some folks may believe these lies!' So on the fire she threw the sheet. I burned my hand—to save this bit. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BALLADE OF SUICIDE by GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON TOM DEADLIGHT by HERMAN MELVILLE SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND by THOMAS MOORE ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 31 by PHILIP SIDNEY THE TRIUMPH OF TIME by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE |