TO SYLVIA

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!