Lily
That opes and shuts as I do speak, do thus unto
‘Thy white and hoarish airs, the messengers of age,
That shew, like lines of true belief, that this life
Bid thee lay hand, and feel them hanging on thy
The which do write two ages past, the third now
Hang up therefore the bit of thy young wanton time:
And thou that therein beaten art, the happiest life
Whereat I sigh’d, and said : ‘ Farewell ! my wonted
Truss up thy pack , and trudge from me to every
And tell them thus from me ; their time most happy
If, to their time, they reason had, to know the truth
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