Flower of Eros
Oh, Love is full of high disdains,
And Passion sharp with bitter pains:
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Love is a rose that holds a bee,
Which stings and dies; but what care we?
The rose remains!
And Passion sharp with bitter pains:
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Love is a rose that holds a bee,
Which stings and dies; but what care we?
The rose remains!
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