Were I on the Latin lay,
Were I turning Odes to-day,
You would draw a gem from me,
Little maid of mystery!
In an Ode I'd love to spout you;
I am simply bug about you.
That's the way!— the fairest peach
Is the one that's out of reach.
I have toasted in my time
Many a peach ( and many a lime ),
All of them, I must confess,
Lacking your elusiveness.
Lalage, my well known flame,
Was considerable dame;
Likewise Lydia and Phyllis,
Chloë, Pyrrha, Amaryllis.
Syl, if you had lived when they did
You'd have had those damsels faded.
( That will give you, girl, some notion
Of your Flaccus's devotion. )
Yep. If I were doing Odes
In my quondam favorite modes,
With your image to qui-vive me
I'd tear off some Ode, believe me!