Sonnets from the Portuguese, XIII
And wilt thou have me fashion into speech
The love I bear thee, finding words enough,
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Love And A Question
A stranger came to the door at eve,
And he spoke the bridegroom fair.
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Maybe
Maybe he believes me, maybe not.
Maybe I can marry him, maybe not.
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Mild Is The Parting Year
Mild is the parting year and sweet
The odour of the falling spray;
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The Heart Asks
The heart asks pleasure first
And then, excuse from pain;
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Upon Julia's Clothes
Whenas in silks my Julia goes,
Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows
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Song: To Celia
Drink to me, only with thine eyes
And I will pledge with mine;
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Rose Aylmer
Ah, what avails the sceptred race;
Ah, what the form divine.
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The Garden of Love
I went to the Garden of Love.
And saw what I never had seen:
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I Taste a Liquor
I taste a liquor never brewed
From Tankards scooped in Pearl.
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