Exquisite Laura! with thy pouting lip,
And the arch smile that makes me constant so —
Tempting me still like a dull bee to sip
The flower I should have left so long ago —
Beautiful Laura! who art just so fair
That I can think thee lovely when alone,
And still art not so wonderfully rare
That I could never find a prettier one —
Spirited Laura! laughing, weeping, crying
In the same breath, and gravest with the gay —
So wild, that Cupid ever shoots thee flying,
And knows his archery is thrown away —
Inconstant as I am, I cannot yet
Break thy sweet fetter, exquisite coquette!