My Love in Her Attire
My love in her attire doth show her wit,
It doth so well become her:
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To Earthward
Love at the lips was touch
As sweet as I could bear;
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Why Is The Rose So Pale
Oh Dearest, canst thou tell me why
The Rose should be so pale?
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My River
My river runs to thee.
Blue sea, wilt thou welcome me?
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The Lake
In spring of youth it was my lot
To haunt of the wide world a spot
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I Many Times Thought
I many times thought peace had come
When peace was far away,
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Reluctance
Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
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Shall I Compare Thee, (Sonnet XVIII)
Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Thou are more lovely and more temperate:
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John Anderson, my Jo
John Anderson, my Jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
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Never Blows So Red
I sometimes think that never blows so red
The rose as where some buried Caesar bled.
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