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MRS ELIZ: WHEELER UNDER THE NAME OF THELOST SHEPHERDESS

 Among the myrtles as I walk'd
Love and my sighs thus intertalk'd:
Tell me, said I, in deep distress,
Where I may find my Shepherdess?
--Thou fool, said Love, know'st thou not this?
In every thing that's sweet she is.
In yond' carnation go and seek, There thou shalt find her lip and cheek; In that enamell'd pansy by, There thou shalt have her curious eye; In bloom of peach and rose's bud, There waves the streamer of her blood.
--'Tis true, said I; and thereupon I went to pluck them one by one, To make of parts an union; But on a sudden all were gone.
At which I stopp'd; Said Love, these be The true resemblances of thee; For as these flowers, thy joys must die; And in the turning of an eye; And all thy hopes of her must wither, Like those short sweets here knit together.

Poem by Robert Herrick
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