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SIR ROBERT AYTON.
FAIR AND UNWORTHY.
I DO Confess thou 'rt smooth and fair, And I might have gone near to love thee,
Had I not found the lightest prayer That lips could speak, had power to move thee:
But I can let thee now alone,
I do confess thou 'rt sweet; yet find
That kisses everything it meets; And since thou canst with more than one, Thou 'rt worthy to be kissed by none.
The morning rose that untouched stands Armed with her briers, how sweetly smells!
But plucked and strained through ruder hands,
PACK clouds away, and welcome day,
Wake from thy nest, robin redbreast;
SEARCH AFTER GOD.
No inore her sweetness with her dwells, I SOUGHT thee round about, O thou my
But scent and beauty both are gone, And leaves fall from her, one by one.
Such fate, erelong, will thee betide, When thou hast handled been awhile,
Like sere flowers to be thrown aside:
O LULL me, lull me, charming air!
And slumbering die,
And change his soul for harmony!