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Poem by Henry King, Bishop of Chichester Sonnet. Dry those fair, those chrystal eyes Dry those fair, those chrystal eyes Which like growing fountains rise To drown their banks. Griefs sullen brooks Would better flow in furrow'd looks. Thy lovely face was never meant To be the shoar of discontent. Then clear those watrish starres again Which else portend a lasting rain; Lest the clouds which settle there Prolong my Winter all the Year: And the example others make In love with sorrow for thy sake. Henry King, Bishop of Chichester Henry King, Bishop of Chichester's other poems:
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