4121607Copper Sun — En PassantCountee Cullen

En Passant

If I was born a liar, lass,And you were born a jade,It’s just the way things come to pass,And men and mice are made.
I tell you love is like the dewThat trembles on the grass;You’d not believe me, speaking true,That love is wormwood, lass.
You swear no other lips but mineHave clung like this to yours,But lass, I know how such strong wineDraws bees and flies by scores.
I now voluptuously baskWhere Jack tomorrow will,And while we kiss, I long to ask,“What girl goes up that hill?”
You love me for the liar I am;I love the minx you are;’Tis heaven we must bless or damnThat shaped us on a par.