Tixall Poetry/To a Lady with a Fine Voice

by unknown author

VIII.

To a Lady with a Fine Voice.

 

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Sing, Siren, though thy notes bring death;
Perfume the aire with thy sweet breath.
The winds are still, the river staies
Delighted with thy pleasing laies;
The Gods doe listen, and Love sweares
You drowne the musicke of the spheares.

 

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