Casting The Body's Vest Aside, My Soul

No White Nor Red Was Ever Seen So Am'rous As This Lovely Green. Fond Lovers, Cruel As Their Flame, Cut In These Trees Their Mistress' Name. Little, Alas, They Know Or Heed How Far These Beauties Hers Exceed! Fair Trees! Where S'e'er Your Barks I Wound, No Name Shall But Your Own Be Found.

Now Let Us Sport Us While We May; And Now, Like Amorous Birds Of Prey, Rather At Once Our Time Devour, Than Languish In His Slow-chapped Power.

What Wondrous Life Is This I Lead! Ripe Apples Drop About My Head; The Luscious Clusters Of The Vine Upon My Mouth Do Crush Their Wine; The Nectarine And Curious Peach Into My Hands Themselves Do Reach; Stumbling On Melons, As I Pass, Ensnared With Flowers, I Fall On Grass.

Had We But World Enough, And Time, This Coyness, Lady, Were No Crime.

And Yonder All Before Us Lie Deserts Of Vast Eternity.