A Fly About A Glasse Of Burnt Claret. (Richard Lovelace Poems)
I.Forbear this liquid fire, Fly,It is more fatal then the dry,That singly, but embracing, wounds;And this at once both burns ...
I.Forbear this liquid fire, Fly,It is more fatal then the dry,That singly, but embracing, wounds;And this at once both burns ...
Cord. Distressed pilgrim, whose dark clouded eyesSpeak thee a martyr to love's cruelties,Whither away?Amor. What pitying voice I hear,Calls back ...
Sweet serene sky-like flower, Haste to adorn her bower; From thy long cloudy bed Shoot forth thy damask head! New-startled ...
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