NOT occasion makes the thief; She`s the greatest of the whole; For Love`s relics, to my grief, From my aching heart she stole. She hath given it to thee,— All the joy my life had known, So that, in my poverty, Life I seek from thee alone. Yet compassion greets me straight In the lustre of thine eye, And I bless my newborn fate, As within thine arms I lie.SourceThe script ran 0 seconds.
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