| In Praise of the Sultan's Daughter |
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| At dawn from the Unseen Speaker Came the glad news to mine ear |
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| Whosoever from thy quarter, Weary of abiding, goeth |
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| Preachers, who in niche and pulpit All this great display do practise |
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| My body for chagrin No moment's rest doth know |
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| Intent upon turning homeward, Why not on the fare shall I be? |
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| Long for her the fire of passion Burneth in this soul of ours |
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| Of repentance from wine in the rosetide, I'faith, I grow ashamed |
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| I am drunken with loveliking For yon tavern-friend of mine |
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| Whenas the East wind waveth Her ambergris-shedding tress |
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