Go talk to her, sweet flower

Alfred Austin

1835 to 1913

Poem Image
Track 1

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To whom I fain would talk
As may her bosom sweet
Go talk to her, sweet flower,
Keep you, sweet flower, alive.
Tell her that should she hie
Tell her I hour by hour
To my parched plot to see
Not quite so sore distressed,
My spirit would revive,
No more should withered be.
A throne upon her breast
Pine on my own poor stalk.
Tell her that I should live
If I were dead, her feet
If she to you would give
If I be dead, that I

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