Sonnet XXIX I Think of Thee
I think of thee
— my thoughts do twine and bud About thee,as wild vines, about a tree,
Put out broad leaves, and soon there's nought to see Except the straggling green which hides the wood
Yet,
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I think of thee
— my thoughts do twine and bud About thee,as wild vines, about a tree,
Put out broad leaves, and soon there's nought to see Except the straggling green which hides the wood
Yet,
Whilst by her eyes pursu'd, my poor heart flew it,
Into the sacred bosom of my dearest;
She there in that sweet sanctuary slew it,
Where it presum'd its safety to be nearest
Speak to me, my love
Tell me inwords what you sang
The night is dark
The stars arelost in clouds