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Poem by John Cunningham Clarinda CLARINDA'S lips I fondly press'd, While rapture fill'd each vein; And as I touch'd her downy breast, Its tenant slept serene. So soft a calm, in such a part, Betrays a peaceful mind; Whilst my uneasy, fluttering heart, Would scarcely be confin'd. A stubborn oak the shepherd sees, Unmov'd, when storms descend; But, ah! to every sporting breeze, The myrtle bough must bend. John Cunningham John Cunningham's other poems: 1232 Views |
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