When fourty nights shall beside you brow
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and dig deep wounds in your beauty now
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Your youth's proud livery so gazed on me
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tomorrow will be darkened sealed
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Look how a bird lies tangeled in a net
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Pure shame and awed resistance made him fred
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So fastened in her arms the favoured lies
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She found more beauty in his varied eyes
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Cut is the brunch that might be grown
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with you faith, the treasure of your lusty days
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Then being asked where all your beauty lies
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I say it to your deep-sunken eyes
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"As if the dead the living should exceed
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possessed by heavens heart and hand"
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He burns with basful shame
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She with her tears does quench the maiden
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burning off her cheeks
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Then with her windy sighs and golden hands
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to fain and blow them dry again she seeks
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Look how a painter would surpass his life
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His art with nature's workmanship at strife
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In limmming out a well-proportioned steed
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as if the dead the living should exceed
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-----------------
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The Bolt Of Cupid Fell
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Darkseed |