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Matthew Prior - On My Birthday, July 21Matthew Prior - On My Birthday, July 21
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I, MY dear, was born to-day— So all my jolly comrades say: They bring me music, wreaths, and mirth, And ask to celebrate my birth: Little, alas! my comrades know That I was born to pain and woe; To thy denial, to thy scorn, Better I had ne`er been born: I wish to die, even whilst I say— `I, my dear, was born to-day.` I, my dear, was born to-day: Shall I salute the rising ray, Well-spring of all my joy and woe? Clotilda, thou alone dost know. Shall the wreath surround my hair? Or shall the music please my ear? Shall I my comrades` mirth receive, And bless my birth, and wish to live? Then let me see great Venus chase Imperious anger from thy face; Then let me hear thee smiling say— `Thou, my dear, wert born to-day.`
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