Poem by Robert Herrick

To Sapho

Sapho, I will chuse to go
Where the northern winds do blow
Endless ice, and endless snow;
Rather than I once would see
But a winter's face in thee,—
To benumb my hopes and me.

1. I Call and I Call
2. Loss from the Least
3. Upon the Detracter
4. The Succession of the Four Sweet Months
5. Love, What It Is

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