Page:The Bab Ballads.djvu/104

 TO PHŒBE.

ENTLE, modest, little flower, &emsp;Sweet epitome of May, Love me but for half-an-hour,
 * Love me, love me, little fay."

Sentences so fiercely flaming
 * In your tiny shell-like ear,

I should always be exclaiming
 * If I loved you, dear!

"Smiles that thrill from any distance
 * Shed upon me while I sing!

Please ecstaticize existence,
 * Love me, oh, thou fairy thing!"

Words like these, outpouring sadly,
 * You'd perpetually hear,

If I loved you, fondly, madly;—
 * But I do not,, dear!