And so hinder
Sparks from kindling all the place at once?
Or else kiss away one's soul on her?
- -A sick man sees
Truer, when his hot eyes roll on her!
Rosy rubies make its cup more rose,
Ape the petals,- -
Last, some old king locks it up, morose!
Then how grace a rose? I know a way!
Leave it, rather.
Must you gather?
Smell, kiss, wear it- -at last, throw away!