The gods are just, prayers are unanswerèd—
I pray thee put fresh coals upon the fire.
The burden of lost peaches. Ah, my sweet,
This year I seek them in the sunny South,
To press them to thy sharp white tooth to eat,
To kiss thy amorous hair and curled-up mouth.
Lust and desire are dust and deadly drouth,
For lust is dust and deadly drouth desire,
And time creeps over all with wingèd feet—
For love’s sake put fresh coals upon the fire.