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Portsmouth's Looking Glass

Methinks I see you, newly risen
From your embroider'd Bed and pissing,
With studied mien and much grimace,
Present yourself before your glass,
To vanish and smooth o'er those graces,
You rubb'd off in your Night Embraces.

Lord John Wilmot

Read poems about / on: night, rose

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10/6/2008 8:57:11 AM. You Are Here: Portsmouth's Looking Glass by Lord John Wilmot