Ask what is good of God above. But this is the best of all I hold - his eyes are in his mind. Heaven's great artillery. Over her warm cheek and rising bosom move the bloom of young desire and purple light of love.
A lover's soul lives in the body of his mistress. He that can't live upon love deserves to die in a ditch. True love hates and will not bear delay. I gaze on thee, and yearnings, sad in my bosom hide.
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