And here I stay, expecting now the doom
And sentence of eternal joy, or grief,
Which from thy sweet, or fatal lips must come,
For while I live thou of my heart art chief;
Then show thyself as thou desir'st to be,
Unstain'd in all thy ways, in all upright,
That following days with pure integrity,
May sweet my sorrows past with some delight;
And here I rest, expecting the regard
Of faithful love, and his deserv'd reward.
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Other Poems of Interest...
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