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[Oh thou who tell'st me that all hope is over]

Oh thou who tell'st me that all hope is over
With lazy limbs that heavily recline
On the soft cushions; flushed & fair with wine
Scarce seeming conscious of the scents that hover
Round & above thee: can thy heart recover
So soon its quiet, while mine own shall pine?
Thou who canst love & not o'erstep the line
Of comfort, art thou in good truth a lover
O take away from me those chill calm glances
As thou hast ta'en thy heart away; & give
My heart again that must forget to wander
Thy words were worse than silence they were lances
To poison all the life I have to live
Stagnate the streams of life that should meander