LOVE'S BAUBLES
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stood where Love in brimming armfuls boreSlight wanton flowers and foolish toys of fruit:And round him ladies thronged in warm pursuit,Fingered and lipped and proffered the strange store:And from one hand the petal and the coreSavoured of sleep; and cluster and curled shootSeemed from another hand like shame's salute,--Gifts that I felt my cheek was blushing for. At last Love bade my Lady give the same:And as I looked, the dew was light thereon;And as I took them, at her touch they shoneWith inmost heaven-hue of the heart of flame.And then Love said: 'Lo! when the hand is hers,Follies of love are love's true ministers.'
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