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Poem by Abraham Cowley
Time fly with greater speed away, Add feathers to thy wings, Till thy haste in flying brings That wished-for and expected Day. Comfort's Son we then shall see, Though at first it darkened be With dangers yet, those clouds but gone, Our Day will put his lustre on. Then though Death's sad night appear, And we in lonely silence rest; Our ravish'd Souls no more shall fear, But with lasting day be blest. And then no friends can part us more, Nor no new death extend its power; Thus there's nothing can dissever Hearts which Love hath joined together.
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