time with my salt tears.
Some act of Love's bound to

rehearse
Some say Love

Son of Erebus and Night. .
So oft as I her beauty do be-
hold

Spring, the sweet Spring, is

the year's pleasant king
Steer hither, steer your winged
pines

Stella, think not that I by
verse seek fame

Still to be neat, still to be
drest
* Such was old Orpheus' cun-
ning
Sweet are the thoughts that

113

155

35

168

63

52

167

14

151

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