To Chloe

I COULD resign that eye of blue

Howe’er its splendour used to thrill me;

And ev’n that cheek of roseate hue,—

To lose it, Chloe, scarce would kill me.

That snowy neck I ne’er should miss,

However much I’ve raved about it;

And sweetly as that lip can kiss,

I think I could exist without it.

In short, so well I’ve learned to fast,

That, sooth my love, I know not whether

I might not bring myself at last,

To—do without you altogether.