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Poem by William Drummond
Though I with strange desire To kiss those rosy lips am set on fire, Yet will I cease to crave Sweet touches in such store, As he who long before From Lesbia them in thousands did receive. Heart mine, but once me kiss, And I by that sweet bliss Even swear to cease you to importune more; Poor one no number is; Another word of me ye shall not hear After one kiss, but still one kiss, my dear.
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