I could resign that eye of blue Howe'er its splendor used to thrill me; And even that cheek of roseate hue -- To lose it, Cloe, scarce would kill me. That snowy neck I ne'er should miss, However much I've raved about it; And sweetly as your lip can kiss, I think I could exist without it. In short, so well I've learned to fast That, sweet my love, I know not whether I might not bring myself at last To -- do without you altogether. |