| Last night, with the torrent of tears, The passage of sleep I waylaid |
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| "Pity, monarch of the lovely", Quoth I, "to this stranger show!" |
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| Now from the garden there breathe The breezes of Paradise |
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| Say not, when the word of the wise Thou hearest, "The saying unfit is" |
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| Thy loveliness the sun of every eye be! |
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| Joyful news, o heart! A Jesus-Breathed one, see, there cometh! |
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| Long 'tis since message my fair Anywise sendeth |
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| I, unto whom Thou gavest To look on the the Loved One's face |
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| Love is guide enough to farers in Love's road |
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| "From my heart", quoth I, "the passion Of her cheek away I'll do!" |
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