Your Loue
Were all the world but strife and sin, You'd see a glimpse of hope withinSome hidden nook; no selfish gain Could tempt you; soon, a man againWould go forth from that gentle care; Ah! do we love while you are here?For those who smile are still believed; We trust, then suddenly deceived,O bitter are the smiling arts, The tinsel show of little hearts,We turn to you, hurt with despair, And find our sweetest solace there.
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