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An Hymn To Love

by Robert Herrick, 1648

I will confess
  With cheerfulness,
Love is a thing so likes me,
  That let her lay
  On me all day,
I’ll kiss the hand that strikes me.

  I will not, I,
  Now blubb’ring, cry,
It, ah! too late repents me,
  That I did fall
  To love at all,
Since love so much contents me.

  No, no, I’ll be
  In fetters free:
While others they sit wringing
  Their hands for pain,
  I’ll entertain
The wounds of love with singing.

  With flowers and wine,
  And cakes divine,
To strike me I will tempt thee:
  Which done; no more
  I’ll come before
Thee and thine altars empty.

Published in Hesperides

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