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B
for Beauty
My girl has reached
that lovely state
That's half a bud
and half a flower;
But I am near my
berry time,
Outnumbering her
by many an hour.
Yet Love - who sometimes
raises kings
To the level of
our common race-
Can see no difference
in our state,
In look, in word
or grace.
The Moon to her
has life and power-
It is the Earth's
white ghost to me;
Which tells the
Earth of its decay,
And mine, which
Love's too blind to see.
Love her, my heart,
that she may give
My ghost this praise
she gives the Moon:
Let her not shudder
when she sees
It thin away so
soon.
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