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Robert Herrick - To His Lovely MistressesRobert Herrick - To His Lovely Mistresses
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One night i`th` year, my dearest Beauties, come, And bring those dew-drink-offerings to my tomb; When thence ye see my reverend ghost to rise, And there to lick th` effused sacrifice, Though paleness be the livery that I wear, Look ye not wan or colourless for fear. Trust me, I will not hurt ye, or once show The least grim look, or cast a frown on you; Nor shall the tapers, when I`m there, burn blue. This I may do, perhaps, as I glide by,— Cast on my girls a glance, and loving eye; Or fold mine arms, and sigh, because I`ve lost The world so soon, and in it, you the most: —Than these, no fears more on your fancies fall, Though then I smile, and speak no words at all.
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