The Crime of Love
Shall I suppress the hankering of love,
And behold one’s stifle whispering bare,
Or quench thy besmirch of venom thereof,
Or bedight thy fog, doer of despair?
Before perceiving wisdom of thy crime,
Judgement of thyself no question make,
When desires approach years of prime,
Must respect and morals themselves forsake?
Though slavery gone captured we still be,
Yet must we all have thy person to blame?
Praise thy duets of similarity,
Forswear injustice and love all the same,
So even I not man still do yet swain
For love alone must I wish to gain.
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