Of one my passionate laughter (taking care
With a stretched finger, that her innocence
Might stain with her companion's kindling sense,
To touch the younger little one, who lay
Child-like unblushing) my ungrateful prey
Slips from me, freed by passion's sudden death,
Nor heeds the frenzy of my sobbing breath.
Let it pass! others of their hair shall twist
A rope to drag me to those joys I missed.
See how the bursting currants ripe and red