TO CLOE.
Reading edition
IMITATED FROM MARTIAL.
I could resign that eye of blue. How e'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 that lip can kiss, I think I could exist without it.
In short, so well I've learned to fast, That, sooth my love, I know not whether I might not bring myself at last, To—do without you altogether.