And mortgages, and great relations,
And India bonds, and tithes, and rents,
Oh what are they to love’s sensations?
Black eyes, fair forehead, clustering locks—
Such wealth, such honors, Cupid chooses,
He cares as little for the Stocks,
As Baron Rothschild for the Muses.
She sketch’d; the vale, the wood, the beach,
Grew lovelier from her pencil’s shading:
She botanized; I envied each