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Poem by Thomas Carew
FEAR not, dear love, that I'll reveal Those hours of pleasure we two steal; No eye shall see, nor yet the sun Descry, what thou and I have done. No ear shall hear our love, but we Silent as the night will be; The god of love himself (whose dart Did first wound mine and then thy heart), Shall never know that we can tell What sweets in stol'n embraces dwell. This only means may find it out; If, when I die, physicians doubt What caused my death, and there to view Of all their judgements which was true, Rip up my heart, oh ! then, I fear, The world will see thy picture there.
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