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And, oh, no more; the likenesse being such, |
Why should they not alike in all parts touch? |
Hand to strange hand, lip to lip none denies; |
Why should they brest to brest, or thighes to thighs? |
Likenesse begets such strange selfe flatterie, |
That touching my selfe all seemes done to thee. |
My selfe I embrace, and mine owne hands I kisse, |
And amorously thanke my selfe for this. |
Me, in my glasse, I call thee; But alas, |
When I would kisse, teares dimme mine eyes, and glasse. |
O cure this loving madnesse, and restore |
Me to mee; thee my halfe, my all, my more. |
So may thy cheekes red outweare scarlet die, |
And their white, whitenesse of the Galaxy, |
So may thy mighty amazing beautie move |
Envy'in all women, and in all men, love, |
And so be change and sicknesse farre from thee, |
As thou by comming neare, keep'st them from me. |
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[Transcriptions are not provided for noncanonical poems, elegies on Donne by other authors, or prose compositions.] |