| Ne'er of thy watcher this heart of mine is quit |
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| Though my case, indeed, is tangled Grown by those her tresses two |
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| Such am I that the tavern-nook A hermitage for me is |
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| Hark to the harp and the ghittern, What notification they make |
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| When Time Unbegun thy beauty's sheen In manifestation set |
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| Every moment I bemoan me Of the hand of separation |
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| Thy beauty and loveliness take the world, End to end, all of it, side to side |
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| Since in this age, companion Nor comrade, that fault-free is |
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| Whoever observance and faith With the people of faith keepeth |
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| Though the saying to the preacher Of this city light no whit is |
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