Upon His Timorous Silence in Her Presence
Are lovers full of fire?
How comes it then my verses are so cold?
And how, when I am nigh her,
And fit occasion wills me to be bold,
The more I burn, the more I do desire,
The less I dare require?
Ah love! this is thy wond'rous art,
To freeze the tongue, and fire the heart.
How comes it then my verses are so cold?
And how, when I am nigh her,
And fit occasion wills me to be bold,
The more I burn, the more I do desire,
The less I dare require?
Ah love! this is thy wond'rous art,
To freeze the tongue, and fire the heart.
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