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The good-morrow. |
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I wonder by my troth, what thou, and I |
Did, till we lov'd, were we not wean'd till then? |
But suck'd on countrey pleasures, childishly? |
Or snorted we in the seaven sleepers den? |
T'was so; But this, all pleasures fancies bee. |
If ever any beauty I did see, |
Which I desir'd, and got, t'was but a dreame of thee. |
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And now good morrow to our waking soules, |
Which watch not one another out of feare; |
For love, all love of other sights controules, |
And makes one little roome, an every where. |
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone, |
Let Maps to other, worlds on worlds have showne, |
Let us possesse one world, each hath one, and is one. |
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My face in thine eye, thine in mine appeares, |
And true plaine hearts doe in the faces rest, |
Where can we finde two better hemispheares |
Without sharpe North, without declining West? |
What ever dyes, was not mixt equally; |
If our two loves be one, or, thou and I |
Love so alike, that none doe slacken, none can die.
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[CW: Song.] |