Don't

Your eyes were made for laughter:
Sorrow befits them not;
Would you be blithe hereafter,
Avoid the lover's lot.

The rose and lily blended
Possess your cheeks so fair;
Care never was intended
To leave his furrows there.

Your heart was not created
To fret itself away,
By being unduly mated
To common human clay.

But hearts were made for loving -
Confound philosophy!
Forget what I've been proving,
Sweet Phyllis, and love me!