Laura. The Toyes of a Traveller. Or. The Feast of Fancie - Part 2, 8

Harke lovers, harke, a strangie myracle,
Of one deprivde of heart, yet death doth scape:
Mine L . a flower gave me, which sweete did smell,
And for the same away my life did take:
So that I only breathe through sent of flower,
And without heart, not without life I live,
Then is not this of mightie Love his power
A wonder strange, which he for sport doth give?
When that a flower sustaineth me alone
With life, who in my bodie heart have none.
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