At once to your look drawn,
Since then his heart has yearn’d:
Since then his sleep’s all gone;
This spell since then he’s learn’d.
Of your look are his dreams,
In them it haunts his heart:
Whilst much, ah, sweet that seems!
Yet, love, what is his part?
For he but yearns for thee;
In deed, he does not lie.
Sweet, too, he seeks to be;
Grant him at least a sigh.
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