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!