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The lion's cub

with other verse

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III.

I have rifled land and sea
For similitudes of thee.
First thou wert a Lily, such

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As no satyr dares to touch;
Sweetest, purest of all those
That on Dian's couch their snows
Shed, not knowing she is gone
After cold Endymion.
Then I went to Neptune's realm,
Which the waters overwhelm,
Through a light which is not light,
Sinking to the under-night:
There, where Amphitrite's girls
Slumber, pillowed on their curls,
There I sought thee, Pearl of pearls!
Hast thou rifled land and sea
For similitudes of me?
No: for what am I to thee?
Lilies from the first have grown
For no service but their own.
Votaries to themselves they live,
Taking all the heavens give,
Homage of the wind and dew,
Sighs and tears of lovers, too.
Pearls are souls of lilies flown,
Saved because they once were dear,
By the baptism of Love's tear
That turns itself and them to stone.
Since thou hast my sighs and tears,
And the fulness of my years,

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No need to rifle land and sea
For poor similitudes of me!