Love Potions Through the Ages: A Study of Amatory Devices and Mores

by Harry E. Wedeck

If once again I chance to hold thee aye,

I will not be so fond

As erst I was to suffer thee to fly;

Nay, fast I’ll hold thee, hap of it what may,

And having thee in bond,

Of thy sweet mouth by lust I’ll satisfy.

Now of nought else will I

Discourse. Quick, to thy bosom come me strain;

The sheer thought bids me sing like lark at morn.

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