To a Lady
Weep on, sweet lady, weep yet more,
Those tears will, as they flow,
Extract from the heart's inmost core
Its hidden hoard of woe.
Sorrow does but prolong its stay,
To draw those drops from you;
The night will never pass away
Till it is steep'd in dew.
Those tears will, as they flow,
Extract from the heart's inmost core
Its hidden hoard of woe.
Sorrow does but prolong its stay,
To draw those drops from you;
The night will never pass away
Till it is steep'd in dew.
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