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Poem by Francis Beaumont
Flattering Hope, away and leave me, She'll not come, thou dost deceive me; Hark the cock crows, th' envious light Chides away the silent night; Yet she comes not, oh ! how I tire Betwixt cold fear and hot desire. Here alone enforced to tarry While the tedious minutes marry, And get hours, those days and years, Which I count with sighs and fears Yet she comes not, oh! how I tire Betwixt cold fear and hot desire. Restless thoughts a while remove Unto the bosom of my love, Let her languish in my pain, Fear and hope, and fear again; Then let her tell me, in love's fire, What torment's like unto desire? Endless wishing, tedious longing, Hopes and fears together thronging; Rich in dreams, yet poor in waking, Let her be in such a taking: Then let her tell me in love's fire, What torment's like unto desire? Come then, Love, prevent day's eyeing, My desire would fain be dying: Smother me with breathless kisses, Let me dream no more of blisses; But tell me, which is in Love's fire Best, to enjoy, or to desire?
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