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Count Me, on the Summer Trees

Count me, on the summer trees,

Every leaf that courts the breeze;

Count me, on the foamy deep,

Every wave that sinks to sleep;

Then, when you have number'd these

Billowy tides and leafy trees,

Count me all the flames I prove,

All the gentle nymphs I love.

First, of pure Athenian maids

Sporting in their olive shades,

You may reckon just a score,

Nay, I'll grant you fifteen more.

In the sweet Corinthian grove,

Where the glowing wantons rove,

Chains of beauties may be found,

Chains, by which my heart is bound;

There indeed are girls divine,

Dangerous to a soul like mine!

Many bloom in Lesbos' isle;

Many in Ionia smile;

Rhodes a pretty swarm can boast;

Caria too contains a host.

Sum these all-of brown and fair

You may count two thousand there!

What, you gaze! I pray you, peace!

More I'll find before I cease.

Have I told you all my flames,

'Mong the amorous Syrian dames?

Have I number'd every one,

Glowing under Egypt's sun?

Or the nymphs, who blushing sweet

Deck the shrine of Love in Crete;

Where the God, with festal play,

Holds eternal holiday?

Still in clusters, still remain

Gade's warm, desiring train;

Still there lies a myriad more

On the sable India's shore;

These, and many far remov'd,

All are loving-all are lov'd!