IMITATED FROM CATULLUS. TO ANNA.
Reading edition
Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fire, A million scarce would quench desire, Still would I steep my lips in bliss, And dwell an age on every kiss; Nor then my soul should sated be, Still would I kiss, and cling to thee, Nought should my kiss from thine dissever. Still would we kiss, and kiss forever; E'en though the number did exceed, The yellow harvest's countless seed, To part would be a vain endeavour, Could I desist?—ah! never—never.
November 16, 1806.
Printed by S. and J. RIDGE, Newark.