Did vie with the lily, so white and so fair,
I find to my sorrow, and e’en to love’s blight,
Owes its blanch to enamel or pure lily-white!
No, no, I decline! I relinquish the bliss
I had hoped to derive from a rapturous kiss,
Lest the mark of the brush I might haply erase,
And leave a significant print on her face;
Nor more will I fondly encircle her neck,
Lest the counterfeit fairness my sleeve may bedeck,
And I care not to bear on demonstrative arms