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Mirror, mirror, on the wall, Who is the fairest of them all? Why, it is thee, my pretty one, I am to you as the earth is to the sun. My sweet maiden, thou hath stolen mine heart, Thy beauty and intelligence hath pierced me as a dart. I long for the day that I can hold thee, For it would be so much sweet bliss for me. Alas, I have run out of room for prose, But in token of my love, I give thee, this rose. |