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Robert Herrick - To Pansies
Work rating: Medium

Ah, Cruel Love!  must I endure
Thy many scorns, and find no cure?
Say, are thy medicines made to be
Helps to all others but to me?
I`ll leave thee, and to Pansies come:
Comforts you`ll afford me some:
You can ease my heart, and do
What Love could ne`er be brought unto.
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