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All love, at first, like generous wine,
Ferments and frets until ’tis fine;
But when ’tis settled on the lee,
And from th’ impurer matter free,
Becomes the richer still the older,
And proves the pleasanter the colder.
Butler.
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All love, at first, like generous wine,
Ferments and frets until ’tis fine;
But when ’tis settled on the lee,
And from th’ impurer matter free,
Becomes the richer still the older,
And proves the pleasanter the colder.
Butler.