written by: Welkin Siskin
Thou art enchanter of this heart,
A sweetener of this being, depart
Not; thou art cynosure of this eye,
The sublimest of all, the epitome.
Love is true and it is pure,
A whetted heart for sure.
Fetch love, for what lies above
Is a great darting bird.
Thou art paragon,
A being of virtu; never shun
The love of heart, for it shines with you
Softer as the morning dew.
Leave this being dying in thy love,
Permeate thy verve and vim, and never part
From this heart; this love is unbounded.
Love until lives shrivel, until they fade.
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