For him who hath solitude chosen, Of pleasance and gain what need is? |
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Whoe'er the beauty of the down On the Friend's cheek in sight hath |
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Of the current coin, I wonder, Can it be assay they take |
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If God upon every mortal Should visit every sin |
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The Hidden secret of things The wise from the wine-cup's ray know |
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Thy beauty, in accord with grace, The world hath wholly taken |
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A Fair I have, who round the rose A screen of hyacinths arow hath |
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At dawn, when the wind of the East The scent of the soul's delight taketh |
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When the skinker wine in winecup With this air y-casteth |
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My fair, the moon of beauty takes Its light from that bright face of thine |
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