’t Is much immortal beauty to admire, But more immortal beauty to withstand; The perfect soul can overcome desire, If beauty with divine delight be scanned. For what is beauty but the blooming child Of fair Olympus, that in night must end, And be forever from that bliss exiled, If admiration stand too much its friend? The wind may be enamored of a flower, The ocean of the green and laughing shore, The silver lightning of a lofty tower,— But must not with too near a love adore; Or flower and margin and cloud-cappèd tower Love and delight shall with delight devour!
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VI. Lovers