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Sweetheart, when thou and I,
In very ecstasy,
Transfuse our souls in death,
Each panting amorous breath
But wafts us to the sky.
The goal of our desire
We reach with brain on fire,
But reach it to expire.
Alas, how low the fall
When passions duller burn;
Then Life begins to spurn
Love that will not return;
And Death is lord of all.
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