Of possessing,
Kills me with excess of joy.
Shepherdess.
Thyrsis, how can I believe you!
But confess, and I'll forgive you;
Men are false, and so are you,
Never nature
Framed a creature
To enjoy, and yet be true.
Of possessing,
Kills me with excess of joy.
Thyrsis, how can I believe you!
But confess, and I'll forgive you;
Men are false, and so are you,
Never nature
Framed a creature
To enjoy, and yet be true.