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Poem by John Dryden
On Mrs. Margaret Paston, of Barningham, in Norfolk
SO fair, so young, so innocent, so sweet, So ripe a Judgment, and so rare a Wit, Require at least an Age in one to meet. In her they met; but long they could not stay, ’T was Gold too fine to fix without Allay. Heav’n’s Image was in her so well exprest, Her very sight upbraided all the rest; Too justly ravish’d from an Age like this, Now she is gone, the World is of a Piece.
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