Chapter IV

With kisses would I woo thee first and say,
“Come to my garden, thou fair violet flower.”
Sweet is th’ intoxication of thy power
That bringeth some new fragrance every day:
Nor these embraces would I gladly stay,
At my first thought and knowledge of the shower
Of the living evidences that empower
The loving to assume the lover’s way.
But, lest thine own too maidenly reserve
Shall not requite the gladness of my soul,
Blind to all else but that which may preserve
The extasy of love’s attainèd goal,
I must needs pause, alas! once more, and serve
Minerva’s colder law and pay its toll.