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A Selection from the Lyrical Poems of Robert Herrick

92. CHERRY RIPE

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Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry, Full and fair ones; come, and buy: If so be you ask me where They do grow? I answer, there Where my Julia's lips do smile;— There's the land, or cherry-isle; Whose plantations fully show All the year where cherries grow.

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