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LXXII.
ATTRIBUTES OF LOVE.

If Love had not an understanding eye,
If Love's eye had not comprehensive speech,
If Love were not a thing of memory,
Or if to aught but Love, Love aught could teach,
How much, sweet heart, have I said fruitlessly,
How much fond speech were thrown away on thee;

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How much have both remember'd bootlessly,
How much have others seen, who should not see;
How profligate our hearts of moments wasted;
How vain the fond expectancies that led;
How wild the dreams whose raptures sleep untasted;
How sad the sweet delusions which have fed;
The hearts whole being from this danger shrinks!
Yet Love is no such profligate, methinks!