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WHEN
I behold the light of your dear eyes,
Whose glance to mine hot tears of gladness brings,
My soul, outworn in ecstasy, takes wings,
And seeks on earth a heavenly paradise.
Then, finding what an earthly web there lies
Woven of sweetness and of bitter stings,
Communes with Love, with sigh-breathed murmurings;
So sharp a spur, so hard a bit Love plies,
Thus sways my soul betwixt the two extremes,
Now with an icy, now with hot desire
Between despair and ecstasy it moves,
Girt with few joyous, many bitter dreams;
And mourns that Love should kindle such a fire.
Such fruit is borne from such a root as Love's.
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