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A Selection from the Lyrical Poems of Robert Herrick

96. UPON JULIA'S VOICE

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When I thy singing next shall hear, I'll wish I might turn all to ear, To drink-in notes and numbers, such As blessed souls can't hear too much Then melted down, there let me lie Entranced, and lost confusedly; And by thy music strucken mute, Die, and be turn'd into a Lute.

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