Oh, never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seemed my flame to qualify;
I could as easy from my self depart
As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie.
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That is my home of love; if I have ranged
Like him that travels, I return again,
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,
So that myself bring water for my stain.
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Never believe, though in my nature reigned
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
That it could so preposterously be stained
To leave for nothing all my sum of good.
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For nothing this wide Universe I call,
Save thou, my Rose; in it thou art my all.
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Just because the world is too much with us this week.
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More on DKos:
Classic Poetry Group
FreeWriters
Readers and Book Lovers (with full schedule of literary diaries)