Pain In Pleasure
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THOUGHT ay like a flower upon mine heart,And drew around it other thoughts like beesFor multitude and thirst of sweetnesses;Whereat rejoicing, I desired the artOf the Greek whistler, who to wharf and martCould lure those insect swarms from orange-treesThat I might hive with me such thoughts and pleaseMy soul so, always. foolish counterpartOf a weak man's vain wishes ! While I spoke,The thought I called a flower grew nettle-roughThe thoughts, called bees, stung me to festering:Oh, entertain (cried Reason as she woke)Your best and gladdest thoughts but long enough,And they will all prove sad enough to sting !
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