HOW careful was I
when I took my way |
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Each trifle under truest bars to thrust, |
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That to my use it might unused stay |
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From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of
trust! |
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But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, |
5 |
Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief, |
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Thou, best of dearest and mine only care, |
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Art left the prey of every vulgar thief. |
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Thee have I not lockd up in any chest, |
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Save where thou art not, though I feel thou
art, |
10 |
Within the gentle closure of my breast, |
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From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and
part; |
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And even thence thou wilt be
stoln, I fear, |
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For truth proves thievish for
a prize so dear. |
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