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70 Terese Coe Trifles Come sing me a bawdy song, make me merry! In nature there’s no blemish but the mind, Mad in pursuit and in possession so, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. From you I have been absent in the spring; How like a winter hath my absence been. What potions have I drunk of silent tears, What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy. Love is a spirit all compact of fire, A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles, Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; Before, a joy proposed, behind, a dream. ...

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