A Goodly saying have I heard, Of Canaan's patriarch grey bespoken |
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The Tale of cypress, tulip, rose By mead and rill betideth |
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Yesternight the angels knocking At the winehouse-door I spied |
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Skinker, youth's capital here come bring |
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If it be granted me of Fate With yonder charmer to foregather |
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To the new blown rose the bulbul Spake this word at break of day |
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To me the East wind yesternight The tidings rare hath brought |
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Friendship in no one I see: To friends of old date what hath happened? |
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Cypress of lofty stature, goodly of gait |
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Cupbearer, come! Lo, of desire for thy service I die |
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