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As'twas humility |
To afford to it all that a Soule can doe, |
So, 'tis some bravery, |
That since you would have none of mee, I bury some of you. |
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The Blossome. |
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Little think'st thou, poore flower, |
Whom I have watch'd sixe or seaven dayes, |
And seene thy birth, and seene what every houre |
Gave to thy growth, thee to this height to raise, |
And now dost laugh and triumph on this bough, |
Little think'st thou |
That it will freeze anon, and that I shall |
To morrow finde thee falne, or not at all. |
|
Little think'st thou poore heart |
That labours yet to nestle thee, |
And think'st by hovering here to get a part |
In a forbidden or forbidding tree, |
And hop'st her stiffenesse by long siege to bow: |
Little think'st thou, |
That thou to morrow, ere that Sunne doth wake, |
Must with this Sunne, and mee a journey take. |
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But thou which lov'st to bee |
Subtile to plague thy selfe, wilt say,
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[CW: Alas,] |