  Could I roll off two heavy years That lie on me like lead; And see you past their cloudy tears, Nor dream that you are dead. I would not touch your lips, your hair, Your breast, that once were mine; Ah! not for me in Faith’s despair Love’s sacramental wine. Find you I must for only this In some new earth or heaven, To bare my sorry heart, and kiss Your feet and be forgiven. |
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