Celia’s Eyes
PASTICHE
TELL me not that babies dwellIn the deeps of Celia’s eyes;Cupid in each hazel wellScans his beauties with surprise,And would, like Narcissus, drownIn my Celia’s eyes of brown.
Tell me not that any goesSafe by that enchanted place;Eros dwells with AnterosIn the garden of her Face,Where like friends who late were foesMeet the white and crimson Rose.