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Sonnet To John Hamilton Reynolds

Rating: 2.7

O that a week could be an age, and we
Felt parting and warm meeting every week,
Then one poor year a thousand years would be,
The flush of welcome ever on the cheek:
So could we live long life in little space,
So time itself would be annihilate,
So a day's journey in oblivious haze
To serve ourjoys would lengthen and dilate.
O to arrive each Monday morn from Ind!
To land each Tuesday from the rich Levant!

In little time a host of joys to bind,
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7/28/2021 11:57:57 PM # 1.0.0.666