You would for paradise break faith and troth. Where shall the lover rest? Heavenly fragrance round it throws. Forever dwelling on the past, never looking to the future.
Do you know you have asked for the costliest thing, ever made by the Hand above? I love my love that loveth her, and anew her being moulds. This lass so neat, with smile so sweet, has won my right good will. The leaves live but to love, and in all the lofty grove the happy trees love each his neighbor.
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