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1049 pages, Kindle Edition
She lords it o'er our hearts in grass green gown.
With buttons loose and locks long flowing down.
Quoth I, 'what is thy name?' Quoth she, I'm she,
Who burns the lover-heart live coals upon:
I made my plaint to her of loving lowe
Laughed she, 'to stone though moanest useless moan!'
Quoth I, 'An be of hardest stone thy heart,
Allah drew sweetest spring from hardest stone.'
By what thine eyelids show of kohl and coquetry!
By what thy shape displays of lissome symmetry!
By what thy liplets store of honey dew and wine!
By what thy mind adorns of gracious kindly gree!
To me thy sight dream-visioned, O my hope! Exceeds
The happiest escape from horriblest injury.
When i drew up her shift from the roof of her coynte,
I found it as strait as my mind and my money:
So i drove it half-way, and she sighed a loud sigh
Quoth I, 'why this sigh?' 'for the rest of it, honey!'

On the glancing racer outracing glance
He speeds, as though he would collar doom:
His steed's black coat is of darkest jet,
And likest night in her nightliest gloom:
Whose neigh sounds glad to the hearer's ears
Like thunders rolling in thund'rous boom:
If he race the wind he will lead the way,
And the lightning flash will behind him loom.
The hills and trees and rocks reworded their shout for fear of the almighty.
There be three who are known only in three several cases, the merciful man is unknown save in time of wrath, the brave only in battle, and thy friend in time of need.
Long i lamented that we fell apart,["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>
While tears repentant railed from these eyne;
And sware, if time unite us twain once more,
'Severance' shall never sound from tongue of mine:
Joy hath so overwhelmed me that excess
Of pleasure from mine eyes draws gouts of brine:
Tears O mine eyes, have now become your wont
Ye weep for pleasure and you weep for pine!