Enough of love!
Let break its every hold! Ended my youthful folly! for I know That, like the dazzling, glister-shedding snow, Celia, thou art beautiful, but cold. I do not find in thee that warmth which glows, Which, all these dreary days, my heart has sought, That warmth without which love is lifeless, naught More than a painted fruit, a waxen rose. Such love as thine, scarce can it bear love's name, Deaf to the pleading notes of his sweet lyre, A frank, impulsive heart I wish to claim, A heart that blindly follows its desire. I wish to embrace a woman full of flame, I want to kiss a woman made of fire.
