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(Poem by ViennaCC)
The barren tender of a poet's debt;
And with the wind in greater fury fret:
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
Their lips together glued, fall to the earth.
To guard the lawful reasons on thy part:
Than northy truth would willingly impart:
More worthy I to be beloved of thee.
For maiden-tongued he was, and thereof free;
Sets down her babe and makes an swift dispatch
This said, his guilty hand pluck'd up the latch,
Thy never-conquer'd fort: the fault is thine,
Will tie the hearers to attend each line,
Answer'd their cries, 'my daughter' and 'my wife.'
And in his will his wilful eye he tired.
A thousand kisses buys my heart from me;
That makes more gashes where no breach should be