  YOUR eyes were made for laughter, Sorrow befits them not; Would you be blithe hereafter, Avoid the lover’s lot. The rose and lily blended Possess your cheeks so fair; Care never was intended To leave his furrows there. Your heart was not created To fret itself away, Being unduly mated But hearts were made for loving,— Confound philosophy! Forget what I’ve been proving, Sweet Phyllis, and love me. James Jeffrey Roche. |
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