| When Love at first did move |
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| So beauty on the waters stood |
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| If all these Cupids now were blind |
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| Had those that dwell in error foul |
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| Still turn, and imitate the heaven |
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| Epithalamion - |
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| Gentle Love, be not dismayed |
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| A Crown, a crown for Love's bright head |
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| What just excuse had aged Time |
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| Soft, subtle fire, thou soul of art |
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