Edward de Vere Poems

Sitting alone upon my thought in melancholy mood,
In sight of sea, and at my back an ancient hoary wood,
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Faction, that ever dwells in Courte where witt excels,
Hath sett defiance;
Fortune and Love have sworne that they were never borne
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Come hither shepherd's swayne:
'Sir, what do you require?'
I praye thee, shewe to me thy name.
'My name is Fond Desire.'
...