Since I made my uncle’s will:
Yours the image all engrossing
When I try to read reports,
You, my Amy, am I drawing,
Even in the Chancery Courts.
Ah! that brow as smooth as—vellum—
Ah! those lips vermilion red—
Kisses wherewith I have sealed them
No one ever witnessèd:
I would sue the man who ventured