Poems By John Moultrie. New ed |
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VIII. | SONNET VIII.
TO THE SAME.
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SONNET VIII. TO THE SAME.
Oh! not for worlds, thou simple-soul'd Adine,Would I be loved by thee.—Yet I confess
That thou dost wear a deeper loveliness
Than the most lovely whom these eyes have seen,
Save One—and she is of a different mien;
Wild-eyed and how wildhearted!—yet no less
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My Gloriana bright, my Faery Queen!
Thou, Lady, in thy meek, affectionate eyes,
Bearest such magic as, I well believe,
Few can resist; to me the charms they weave
Spring from thy gentle wedded sympathies:
And couldst thou less adore thy wayward mate,
Oh! I should hate thee with a poet's hate!
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