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Rated: E · Poetry · Relationship · #1629587
Poem a libertine writes for his wife upon his arrival to their country home for Christmas
My Loving Wife

In all t' world I'll never find
A heart as true as thine
No arms more soft nor sweeter kiss
As yours, my wife's, alone
And your embraces I shall miss
When once again I'll roam
From thee.

Too soon my heart shall rest again
Enfolded in the golden chain
You wove with tenderest ambition
To keep me to my wedding vows
And your most hopeful wishes
To have me bound
To thee.

Here, your designs do naught but prove
That I'm unworthy of your love
In all your strive for happiness
You cannot gain but your distress
Thus a much happier man than me
Could bring no woe
To thee.

Prey, do not waste in idle dreams
The certainest of our joys
Whilst in my arms, under the beams
Of Christmas wreath and mistletoe
My kisses once again will grow
The love I feel
For thee.
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