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- LOVE'S eye should but answer the beam that invites it,
- The glance that tells secrets true heart never won,
- The delicate mind veils the hope that requites it,
- Lest it die, like the fire when exposed to the sun.
- Dear woman's the exquisite magnet of nature,
- And love is the heart-thrilling homage we pay;
- But beauty has not a more delicate feature,
- Than the caution that Love should, if grateful display.
- That name to the heart which sweet transport discloses
- Too sacred should be for a toast or a tale;
- And the breathings of Love, like the perfumes of roses,
- Are exquisite death when surcharging the gale.
- Charles Dibdin
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