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Poem by William Browne
WELCOME, welcome! do I sing, Far more welcome than the spring; He that parteth from you never Shall enjoy a spring for ever. He that to the voice is near Breaking from your iv'ry pale, Need not walk abroad to hear The delightful nightingale. Welcome, welcome, then... He that looks still on your eyes, Though the winter have begun To benumb our arteries, Shall not want the summer's sun. Welcome, welcome, then... He that still may see your cheeks, Where all rareness still reposes, Is a fool if e'er he seeks Other lilies, other roses. Welcome, welcome, then... He to whom your soft lip yields, And perceives your breath in kissing, All the odours of the fields Never, never shall be missing. Welcome, welcome, then... He that question would anew What fair Eden was of old, Let him rightly study you, And a brief of that behold. Welcome, welcome, then...
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