By-the-by though come what may And merely flew those words astray Here and now tis limp to I While your fervour is sooner wry
Thou naοve still doted ream So, birds quarrel about the stream Thus, in fine rely to loathe And defy no hint of betroth
Does a cherub speak ones name Aside the courter but in vain Yes, me a bullion stone To bare foible within your bone
Hush, this notion so inane This ought not be in your pertain Be it Sabbath for dim eyes Then yearn for moonlight at sunrise
Submitted: April 16th, 2005
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