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Thomas Hood - Sonnet to My WifeThomas Hood - Sonnet to My Wife
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The curse of Adam, the old curse of all, Though I inherit in this feverish life Of worldly toil, vain wishes, and hard strife, And fruitless thought, in Care`s eternal thrall, Yet more sweet honey than of bitter gall I taste, through thee, my Eve, my sweet wife. Then what was Man`s lost Paradise!—how rife Of bliss, since love is with him in his fall! Such as our own pure passion still might frame, Of this fair earth, and its delightful bow`rs, If no fell sorrow, like the serpent, came To trail its venom o`er the sweetest flow`rs;— But oh! as many and such tears are ours, As only should be shed for guilt and shame!
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