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Song: Noe more unto my thoughts appeare |
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Written by Sidney Godolphin
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| Noe more unto my thoughts appeare, | | | Att least appeare lesse fayre, | | | For crazy tempers justly feare | | | The goodnesse of the ayre; | | | | | Whilst your pure Image hath a place | 5 | | In my impurer Mynde, | | | Your very shaddow is the glasse | | | Where my defects I finde. | | | | | Shall I not fly that brighter light | | | Which makes my fyres looke pale, | 10 | | And put that vertue out of sight | | | Which makes myne none att all? | | | | | No, no, your picture doeth impart | | | Such valew I not wish | | | The native worth to any heart | 15 | | That 's unadorn'd with this. | | | | | Though poorer in desert I make | | | My selfe whilst I admyre, | | | The fuell which from hope I take | | | I give to my desire. | 20 | | | | If this flame lighted from your Eyes | | | The subject doe calcine, | | | A Heart may bee your sacrifice | | | Too weake to bee your shrine. | | | |
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