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Saturday, 23 March 2019

Sonnet 138

When Love dares to be- e'en to such a maid as Ruth
One who leaves her till she unknowing lies
In the manner of Rahab's too tutored youth
With many a skinful of Truth's disguise
Then, to vainly think the World yet Young
Tho' woe we wean from its wrinkled breast
Is to debit every Paraclete's Pentecost tongue
Of meretricious metrics of Good & Best
& all whys and wherefores, e'en those untold
In a Parliament of Birds, cash out as bung
For Love's lady of the Sun is won with gold
Therefore Love lies most loving lying with me
That our progeny, for aye, yet smothered be. 

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