SEND me some tokens, that my hope may live
Or that my easeless thoughts may sleep and rest;
Send me some honey, to make sweet my hive,
...
|
Who never drinks and never bets, |
You talk of riders on the flat, of nerve and pluck and pace -- |
Too few the mornings be, |
Too happy Time dissolves itself |
Oh, if there may departing be |
Too little way the House must lie |
Too scanty 'twas to die for you, |
Touch lightly Nature's sweet Guitar |
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