The Arrow
I THOUGHT of your beauty, and this arrow,
Made out of a wild thought, is in my marrow.
Theres no man may look upon her, no man,
As when newly grown to be a woman,
Tall and with fad bosom
Delicate in colour as apple blossom.
This beautys kinder, yet for a reason
I could weep that the old is out of season.
(ò﹏ò)
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谢谢!!!