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His beard was white as snow,

All flaxen was his poll :

He is gone, he is gone,

And we cast away moan;
Gramercy on his soul !

When to the sessions of sweet-silent thought.

WHEN to the sessions of sweet-silent thought,
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste.
Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long-since-cancell'd woe,
And moan th' expense of many a vanish'd sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone.
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.

But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor'd, and sorrows end.

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CUPID laid by his brand and fell asleep;
A maid of Dian's this advantage found,
And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep
In a cold valley-fountain of that ground;
Which borrow'd from this holy fire of Love
A dateless-lively heat, still to endure,
And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove
Against strange maladies a sovereign cure.
But at my mistress' eye Love's brand new-fir'd,
The boy for trial needs would touch my breast;
I, sick withal, the help of bath desir'd,
And thither hied, a sad distemper'd guest,

But found no cure: the bath for my help lies
Where Cupid got new fire,-my mistress' eyes.

Who is Silvia!

WHO is Silvia? what is she,

That all our swains commend her!

Holy, fair, and wise is she;

The heavens such grace did lend her, That she might admired be.

Is she kind as she is fair?

For beauty lives with kindness: Love doth to her eyes repair,

To help him of his blindness; And, being help'd, inhabits there.

Then to Silvia let us sing,

That Silvia is excelling; She excels each mortal thing

Upon the dull earth dwelling: To her let us garlands bring.

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