9.

Even now I cannot well forget thee,
And though no more in folds of pleasure,
Kiss follows kiss in countless measure,
I hope _you_ sometimes will regret me.

10.

And smile to think how oft were done,
What prudes declare a sin to act is,
And never but in darkness practice,
Fearing to trust the tell-tale sun.

11.

And wisely therefore night prefer,
Whose dusky mantle veils their fears,
Of _this_, and _that_, of eyes and ears,
Affording shades to those that err.

12.

Now, by my foul, 'tis most delight
To view each other panting, dying.
In love's _extatic posture_ lying,
Grateful to _feeling_, as to _sight_.

13.