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Poem by Philip Sidney
Sonnet 79. Sweet Kiss, Thy Sweets I Fain
Sweet kiss, thy sweets I fain would sweetly endite, Which even of sweetness sweetest sweet'ner art: Pleasing'st consort, where each sense holds a part; Which, coupling doves, guides Venus' chariot right; Best charge, and bravest retreat in Cupid's fight, A double key, which opens to the heart, Most rich, when most his riches it impart; Nest of young joys, schoolmaster of delight, Teaching the mean at once to take and give; The friendly fray, where blows both wound and heal, The pretty death, while each in other live; Poor hope's first wealth, hostage of promis'd weal, Breakfast of love. But lo! lo, where she is. Cease we to praise; now pray we for a kiss.
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