A sonnet composed as if Lord Byron never knew the peaks and valleys of love and intimacy.
|I longed for love, as pure as driven snow
and virgin, before Youth's brief joys succumb;
but, for me, love never transpired; and, although
heartbroken, I persevered 'til life's autumn.
A lass, princess, or queen have I never
loved, or with ardent nymph have passion-proved
lust's longing fire; thus, deprived for ever,
I disavowed former hopes for my beloved.
Unblemished, pure, artless, and innocent,
without sin, if not virtuous from here to east,
I cast'd aside my youth's salacious bent;
and shunned my lusts as if I were a priest.
Now old and bootless, I've ne'er known desire;
or pierced the flower of a maid on fire.