To My Heavenly Charmer

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My poor expecting Heart beats for thy Breast,
In ev'ry Pulse, and will not let me rest;
A thousand dear Desires are waking there,
Whose Softness will not a Description bear,
Oh! let me pour them to thy lovely Eyes,
And catch their tender Meanings as they rise.
My ev'ry Thought and Look it overflows.
Too noble and too strong for all Disguise,
It rushes from my Love-discov'ring Eyes.
Nor Rules nor Reason can my Love restrain;
Its godlike Tide runs high in ev'ry Vein.
To the whole World my Tenderness be known,
What is the World to her, who lives for thee alone.

© Martha Sansom