ON a day, alack the
day! |
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Love, whose month was ever May, |
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Spied a blossom passing fair, |
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Playing in the wanton air: |
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Through the velvet leaves the wind, |
5 |
All unseen, gan passage find; |
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That the lover, sick to death, |
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Wishd himself the heavens breath. |
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Air, quoth he, thy cheeks
may blow; |
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Air, would I might triumph so! |
10 |
But, alas! my hand hath sworn |
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Neer to pluck thee from thy thorn: |
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Vow, alack! for youth unmeet: |
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Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet. |
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Thou for whom Jove would swear |
15 |
Juno but an Ethiop were; |
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And deny himself for Jove, |
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Turning mortal for thy love. |
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