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Lord Byron's Poems

Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fire,

A million scarce would quench desire;

Still would I steep my lips in bliss,

And dwell an age on every kiss;

Nor then my soul should sated be,

Still would I kiss and cling to thee:

Nought should my kiss from thine dissever,

Still would we kiss and kiss for ever;

E'en though the numbers did exceed ii

The yellow harvest's countless seed;

To part would be a vain endeavour:

Could I desist? - ah! never - never.


November 16, 1806.


Footnote 1: From a note in Byron's copy of Catullus (now in the possession of Mr. Murray), it is evident that these lines are based on Carm. xlviii., 'Mellitos oculos tuos, Juventi'.


Footnote i:'To Anna'.


Footnote ii: 'E'en though the number'.. 'Three first Editions'.

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