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XXXVI
SONG

Hears not my Phillis, how the Birds
Their feather'd Mates salute?
They tell their Passion in their Words;
Must I alone be mute?
Phillis, without Frown or Smile,
Sat and knotted all the while.

35

The God of Love in thy bright Eyes
Does like a Tyrant reign;
But in thy Heart a Child he lyes,
Without his Dart or Flame.
Phillis, without [Frown or Smile,
Sat and knotted all the while.]
So many Months in Silence past,
And yet in raging Love,
Might well deserve one Word at last
My Passion shou'd approve.
Phillis, without [Frown or Smile,
Sat and knotted all the while.]
Must then your faithful Swain expire,
And not one Look obtain,
Which he, to sooth his fond Desire,
Might pleasingly explain?
Phillis, without [Frown or Smile,
Sat and knotted all the while.]