Laura. The Toyes of a Traveller. Or. The Feast of Fancie - Part 1, 18

If Sea no other thing doth shew to bee
Than most unstable waters mooving oft,
With pardon (Ladie) you this seeme to mee,
So most unstable is your changing thought.
I likewise hold a river that orewhelmes
With watrie salt within these eyes of mine:
Then let us make a mixture mongst our selves
Of this unstedfastnes and watrie brine.
Lets fashion both of us a novell Sea,
So heaven the haven, and love the bay shal bee.
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