John Keats

“ Thou wilt think that some amorous zephyr is nigh;
Yet no—as I breathe I will press thy fair knee,
And then thou wilt know that the sigh comes from me.
Ah! why, dearest girl, should we lose all these blisses?
That mortal 's a fool who such happiness misses:
So smile acquiescence, and give me thy hand,
With love-looking eyes, and with voice sweetly bland. ”

“ And when thou art weary, I 'll find thee a bed
Of mosses and flowers to pillow thy head:
And there Georgiana I 'll sit at thy feet,
While my story of love I enraptur'd repeat. ”