Oh! Might I Kiss Those Eyes Of Fire, A Million Scarce Would Quench Desire; Still Would I Steep My Lips In Bliss, And Dwell An Age On Every Kiss; Nor Then My Soul Should Sated Be, Still Would I Kiss And Cling To Thee: Nought Should My Kiss From Thine Dissever, Still Would We Kiss And Kiss For Ever; E'En Though The Numbers Did Exceed The Yellow Harvest'S Countless Seed; To Part Would Be A Vain Endeavour: Could I Desist? - Ah! Never - Never.