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Poem by George Herbert
Sweetest of sweets, I thank you: when displeasure Did through my body wound my mind, You took me thence, and in your house of pleasure A dainty lodging me assigned. Now I in you without a body move, Rising and falling with your wings: We both together sweetly live and love, Yet say sometimes, "God help poor Kings". Comfort, I'll die; for if you post from me Sure I shall do so, and much more: But if I travel in your company, You know the way to heaven's door.
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