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437. Song—Thine am I my faithful Fair

 THINE am I, my faithful Fair,
 Thine, my lovely Nancy;
Ev’ry pulse along my veins,
 Ev’ry roving fancy.
To thy bosom lay my heart,
 There to throb and languish;
Tho’ despair had wrung its core,
 That would heal its anguish.


Take away those rosy lips,
 Rich with balmy treasure;
Turn away thine eyes of love,
 Lest I die with pleasure!
What is life when wanting Love?
 Night without a morning:
Love’s the cloudless summer sun,
 Nature gay adorning.






Book: Reflection on the Important Things