XL

Oh, yes ! they love through all this world of ours !

I will not gainsay love, called love forsooth.

I have heard love talked in my early youth,

And since, not so long back but that the flowers

Then gathered, smell still. Mussulmans and Giaours

Throw kerchiefs at a smile, and have no ruth

For any weeping. Polyphemes white tooth

Slips on the nut if, after frequent showers,

The shell is over-smooth,--and not so much

Will turn the thing called love, aside to hate

Or else to oblivion. But thou art not such

A lover, my Beloved ! thou canst wait

Through sorrow and sickness, to bring souls to touch,

And think it soon when others cry Too late.

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