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To Odelia.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


5

To Odelia.

Health to my fair Odelia, some that know
How many months are past
Since I beheld thy lovely brow,
Would count an Age at least:
But unto me
Whose thoughts are still on thee;
I vow
By thy black eyes, 'tis but an hour agoe.
That Mistris I pronounce but poor in blisse,
That when her servant parts,
Gives not as much with her last kisse,
As will maintain two hearts
Till both do meet
To taste, what else is sweet.
Is't fit
Time measure Lov, or our Affection it?
Cherish that heart Odelia, that is mine,
And if the North thou fear,
Dispatch but from thy Southern clime
A sigh, to warm thine here:
But be so kind
To send by the next wind,
'Tis far,
And many accidents do wait on War.