The Christmas Lover

T is love that makes the stars revolve;
'Tis love that makes the world go round.
This, Christmas purpose I resolve
On earth to make love more abound.
On me, dear maid, thy love bestow,
And match my full heart's overflow!

Nor gems nor gear to thee I bring;
Nor gauds nor merchandises rare.
Love's offerings I may not sing,
But love itself I have to spare
In boundless store, and all for thee,
If but thy heart responds to me.
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