Finds to assuage my thirst.
“No love that may the old love slay,
None sweeter than the first.
“Fond heart of mine, that beats so fast
As this or that fair maid trips past,
Once, and with lesser stir
We viewed the grace of love, at last,
And turned idolater.
“Lad’s Love it was, that in the spring
When all things woke to blossoming