Geoffrey Keating

O woman full of wiliness!             Although for love of me you pine,         Withhold your hand adventurous,             It holdeth nothing holding mine.         Look on my head, how it is grey!             My body's weakness doth appear;         My blood is chill and thin; my day             Is done, and there is nothing here.         Do not call me a foolish man,             Nor lean your lovely cheek to mine         O slender witch, our bodies can             Not mingle now, nor any time.         So take your mouth from mine, your hand             From mine, ah, take your lips away!         Lest heat to will should ripen, and             All this be grave that had been gay.         It is this curl, a silken nest,             And this grey eye bright as the dew,         And this round, lovely, snow-white breast             That draws desire in search of you.         I would do all for you, meseems,             But this, tho' this were happiness!         I shall not mingle in your dreams,             O woman full of wiliness!