©THE GLADDEN SCRIBBLE.
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ALL HOPES ON ME:
Take, take away your dreadful sight, death
And let me for my lovers fight
Remit awhile the harsh stare
And let not her hope become my fear;
For she had nurtured in pain
And precognition apprised her of a bounty gain
Then, would she not dream such day?
When she would sit, sits in her wonted way
In a grand position and summons her lady
'bring for me from the fruits of labour, my lady;
' and check what needs replacement...