Edmund Waller quotes

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Then die that she
The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee;
Go, lovely Rose--
Tell her that wastes her time and me
The fear of hell, or aiming to be blest,
Savours too much of private interest.
Poets that lasting Marble seek
Must carve in Latine or in Greek,
The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed,
Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made:
A narrow compass! and yet there
Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair!
It was my heaven's extremest sphere,
The pale which held that lovely deer;
The yielding marble of her snowy breast.
Take heed, fair Eve! you do not make
Another tempter of this snake;
A marble one so warmed would speak.
Yet fairest blossome do not slight
That age which you may know so soon:
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