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TYRANNICK [TYRANNIC] LOVE: SONG, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Ah how sweet it is to love
Last Line: Tis but rain, and runs not clear.
Subject(s): Dreams; Love; Sleep; Virginity; Nightmares; Vestals

AH how sweet it is to love,
Ah how gay is young desire!
And what pleasing pains we prove
When we first approach Loves fire!
Pains of Love be sweeter far
Than all other pleasures are.

Sighs which are from Lovers blown,
Do but gently heave the Heart:
Ev'n the tears they shed alone
Cure, like trickling Balm, their smart.
Lovers when they lose their breath
Bleed away in easie death

Love and Time with reverence use,
Treat 'em like a parting friend:
Nor the golden gifts refuse
Which in youth sincere they send:
For each year their price is more,
And they less simple than before.

Love like Spring-tides full and high
Swells in ev'ry youthful vein:
But each Tide does less supply,
Till they quite shrink in again
If a flow in Age appear,
'Tis but rain, and runs not clear.

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