OF JOAN'S YOUTH

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I
I WOULD unto my fair restore
A simple thing:
The flushing cheek she had before!
Out-velveting
No more, no more
By Severn shore,
The carmine grape, the moth’s auroral wing.
Ah, say how winds in flooding grass
Unmoor the rose;
Or guileful ways the salmon pass
To sea, disclose;
For so, alas,
With Love, alas,
With fatal, fatal Love a girlhood goes.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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