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love
Love is a meek delight,
Sought with all might,
Doubting whether we are right.
It is cupid's sweet arrow,
Has hit hearts, and will hit tomorrow,
It’s a godly debt to borrow.
It is that mighty force,
That binds the fine to the coarse,
But-ah! Doesn’t make it worse.
It’s sole thing good for man,
It’s the best he can,
Come on-don't run where fools ran.
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