Impromptu, to the Same
Severely pleas'd, and heedless of its smart,
When idly, you torment my doating heart,
Then, trust me, to Yourself you're cruel grown,
For ah! dear maid! that heart is — all your own .
When idly, you torment my doating heart,
Then, trust me, to Yourself you're cruel grown,
For ah! dear maid! that heart is — all your own .
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