Thy bosom is endearèd with all hearts,Which I by lacking have supposèd dead,And there reigns love and all love's loving parts,And all those friends which I thought burièd.How many a holy and obsequious tearHath dear religious love stol'n from mine eyeAs interest of the dead, which now appearBut things removed that hidden in thee lie!Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,Hung with the
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