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Poem by Samuel Rogers
Once more, enchanting girl, adieu! I must be gone while yet I may, Oft shall I weep to think of you; But here I will not, cannot stay. The sweet expression of that face. For ever changing, yet the same, Ah no, I dare not turn to trace. It melts my soul, it fires my frame! Yet give me, give me, ere I go, One little lock of those so blest, That lend your cheek a warmer glow, And on your white neck love to rest. -Say, when to kindle soft delight, That hand has chanc'd with mine to meet, How could its thrilling touch excite A sigh so short, and yet so sweet? O say-but no, it must not be. Adieu! A long, a long adieu! -Yet still, methinks, you frown on me; Or never could I fly from you.
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