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O, that joy so soon should waste!

Or so sweet a bliss

As a kiss,

Might not forever last!

So sugared, so melting, so soft, so delicious,

The dew that lies on roses,

When the morn herself discloses,

Is not so precious.

O, rather than I would it smother,

Were I to taste such another,

It should be my wishing

That I might die kissing.

~

words From The HeartWhere stories live. Discover now