to Mr. Robert Herrick
Stealing the flight or flood is tin-folded
And this name o'flower that smithes'm
In narrow surely'll be scolded.
Hilarious samples of gold, hives
the Brighter it's a-fetching
the soother'r the faces to scarce yer lives
or sweeter, and then tis for nesting.
The beast of gainers here's Thirst
when blood is new but shorter.
We dry-out entire beings of loath first
or hives of sorrow May follow the former.
Chaos is not to be the first line
With flowers of May & fairies.
'll make ye lose the sins o'thine
and everfor you'll fetch the merries.
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