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Poetry Archives

A continuing selection of classic and contemporary poems.

Again

Robert Herrick

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
Entranc’d and lost confusedly,
And by thy music stricken mute,
Die and be turn’d into a lute.
Online text © 1998-2008 Poetry X. All rights reserved.

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