Classic Poem

I could resign that eye of blue
Howe'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 your lip can kiss,
I think I could exist without it.

In short, so well I've learned to fast
That, sweet my love, I know not whether
I might not bring myself at last
To--do without you altogether.