One sweet, sad secret holds my heart in thrall. Ah! The seasons of love roll not backward but onward, downward forever.
How can you know my sorrow? No cord nor cable can so forcibly draw, or hold so fast, as love can do with a twined thread. In all I wish, how happy should I be, grand Deluder, were it not for thee? And constancy lives in realms above.
You would for paradise break faith and troth. See how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
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