While he's like the friend of a day put aside;
For the breath of your nostrils, I think, is your pride.
Form a friendship, for life, with some likely young lad;
So doing, in honour your name shall be had.
Nor would Love use you hardly; though lightly can he
Bind strong men in chains, and has wrought upon me
Till the steel is as wax—but I'm longing to press
That exquisite mouth with a clinging caress.
No? Reflect that you're older each year than the last;
That we all must grow gray, and the wrinkles come fast.