Love's Likeness
O, Mark yon Rose-tree! when the West
Breathed on her with too warm a zest
She turns her cheek away;
Yet, if one moment he refrain,
She turns her cheek to him again,
And woos him still to stay!
Is she not like a maiden coy,
Prest by some amorous-breathing boy?
Tho' coy, she courts him too:
Winding away her slender form,
She will not have him woo so warm
And yet will have him woo!
Breathed on her with too warm a zest
She turns her cheek away;
Yet, if one moment he refrain,
She turns her cheek to him again,
And woos him still to stay!
Is she not like a maiden coy,
Prest by some amorous-breathing boy?
Tho' coy, she courts him too:
Winding away her slender form,
She will not have him woo so warm
And yet will have him woo!
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