Had I a man's fair form, then might my sighs <br />Be echoed swiftly through that ivory shell <br />Thine ear, and find thy gentle heart; so well <br />Would passion arm me for the enterprize: <br />But ah! I am no knight whose foeman dies; <br />No cuirass glistens on my bosom's swell; <br />I am no happy shepherd of the dell <br />Whose lips have trembled with a maiden's eyes. <br />Yet must I doat upon thee,--call thee sweet, <br />Sweeter by far than Hybla's honied roses <br />When steep'd in dew rich to intoxication. <br />Ah! I will taste that dew, for me 'tis meet, <br />And when the moon her pallid face discloses, <br />I'll gather some by spells, and incantation.<br /><br />John Keats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-ii-to/
