Classic Poem

Let's live, and love, my darling fair!
And not a single farthing care
For age's babbling spite;
Yon suns that set again shall rise;
But, when our transient meteor dies,
We sleep in endless night:

Then first a thousand kisses give,
An hundred let me next receive,
Another thousand yet;
To these a second hundred join,
Still be another thousand mine,
An hundred then repeat:

Such countless thousands let there be,
Sweetly confus'd; that even we
May know not the amount;
That envy, so immense a store
Beholding, may not have the pow'r
Each various kiss to count.