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Poem by Thomas Gent


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Come, Jenny, let me sip the dew,
That on those coral lips doth play,
One kiss would every care subdue,
And bid my weary soul be gay.

For surely, thou wert form'd by love
To bless the suffrer's parting sigh;
In pity then, my griefs remove,
And on that bosom let me die! 



Thomas Gent


Thomas Gent's other poems:
  1. Written in the Album of the Lady of Counsellor D. Pollock
  2. The Heliotrope
  3. Sonnet On seeing a Young Lady I had previously known, confined in a Madhouse
  4. The Sibyl
  5. Mature Reflections


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