UPON A MAID (Robert Herrick Poem)
Here she lies, in bed of spice, Fair as Eve in paradise; For her beauty, it was such, Poets could ...
Here she lies, in bed of spice, Fair as Eve in paradise; For her beauty, it was such, Poets could ...
Come pity us, all ye who see Our harps hung on the willow-tree; Come pity us, ye passers-by, Who see ...
Beauty no other thing is, than a beam Flash'd out between the middle and extreme. (Robert Herrick)
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