| The Tongue of the pen refuseth To set forth the bale of sev'rance |
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| Intent, save of oppression, Thou seest, the fair hath not |
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| The Blood of the heart from the eye All over our face passeth |
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| The Wineseller's sins, If the duly the winebibbers' need doth |
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| Thou, by whose bright face bloometh The tulip-bed of life |
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| May none, like me, be shattered of the woes of separation |
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| For weeping, all immersed in blood The apple of mine eye is |
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| The Rose, sans the check of the Friend, is not goodly |
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| Yet once more the East wind's breathings Musk-scattering will go |
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| Admonition I make thee: Give ear nor except thereto, An |
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