We cover thee, sweet face

      Not that we tire of thee,

But that thyself fatigue of us;

      Remember, as thou flee,

We follow thee until

      Thou notice us no more,

And then, reluctant, turn away

      To con thee o'er and o'er,

And blame the scanty love

      We were content to show,

Augmented, sweet, a hundred fold

      If thou would'st take it now.