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I could but see thee yesterday
Stung by a fretful bee; And I the javelin suck'd away, And heal'd the wound in thee. A thousand thorns, and briars, and stings I have in my poor breast; Yet ne'er can see that salve which brings My passions any rest. As Love shall help me, I admire How thou canst sit and smile To see me bleed, and not desire To staunch the blood the while. If thou, composed of gentle mould, Art so unkind to me; What dismal stories will be told Of those that cruel be! Unsatisfied? Search for more:Other Cool Sites:Hot Arts & Stage NewsLyrics Catalogue Sound Tracks Guide Guide to Serials and Shows English Subtitles For DivX Movies Hundreds of Cooking Recipes Over 5000 Cocktails Recipes Cool Online Encyclopedia Cellulars Descriptions and Reviews Algorithms Dictionary Funny Jokes and Anecdotes. Usenet Newsgroups Reader |