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Licia Sonnets 36 Poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
Hear how my sighs are echoed of the wind; See how my tears are pitied by the rain; Feel what a flame possesséd hath my mind; Taste but the grief which I possess in vain. Then if my sighs the blustering winds surpass, And wat'ry tears the drops of rain exceed, And if no flame like mine nor is nor was, ....
