Note 10 — PART VII.
Reading edition
Lovely and loved! shall one slight hair Touch thy delicious lip with care? A heart like thine may laugh at Time— The Soul is ever in its prime. All Loves, you know, have infant faces, A thousand years can't chill the Graces! While thou art in my soul enshrined, I give all sorrows to the wind. Were I this hour but gay eighteen, Thou couldst be but my bosom's queen; I might for longer years adore, But could not, could not love thee more.