Stolen Pleasure

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My sweet did sweetly sleep,
And on her rosy face
Stood tears of pearl, which beauty’s self did weep;
I, wond’ring at her grace,
Did all amaz’d remain,
When Love said, “Fool, can looks thy wishes crown?
Time past comes not again.”
Then did I me bow down,
And kissing her fair breast, lips, cheeks, and eyes
Prov’d here on earth the joys of paradise.

© William Drummond (of Hawthornden)