Bokelskere.no

She was once ill, pale, and had lost all her freshness. I only adored her the more for it, and fell in love with the decay of her beauty.

But by her dove's eyes and serpent-shape, I think she does not hate me; by her smooth forehead and her crested hair, I own I love her; by her soft looks and queen-like grace (which men might fall down andworship) I swear to live and die for her!

I want a hand to guide me, an eye to cheer me, a bosom to repose on; all which I shall never have, but shall stagger into my grave, old before my time, unloved and unlovely, unless S. L. keeps her faith with me.