Page:Troubadour.pdf/245

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THE TROUBADOUR.
241


    A sweet liquor sparkling up,
    But drank from a poison'd cup.
    Would you guard your heart from care
    Love must never enter there.
    I will dwell with summer flowers,
    Fit friends for the summer hours,
    My companions honey-bees,
    And birds, and buds, and leaves, and trees,
    And the dew of the twilight,
    And the thousand stars of night:
    I will cherish that sweet gift,
    The least earthly one now left
    Of the gems of Paradise,
    Poesy's delicious sighs.
    Ill may that soft spirit bear
    Crowds' or cities' healthless air;