As bright to light his pathway as the day.
Of course I could deny it; say I held
No key to spring the latch of love like hers.
Our lips, but parting e’en to speak of love,
Infringe on Cupid; and, before they shut,
Some tingling arrow of that jealous god
Will make them drop all soberness.
He laugh’d:
“Now say you never saw the sea, for waves;
Or stars, for twinkling; or the trees, for leaves;