[… ] what did become |
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Of my heart when I first saw thee? |
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I brought a heart into the room, |
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But from the room I carried none with me. |
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If it had gone to thee, I know |
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Mine would have taught thine heart to show |
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More pity unto me; but Love, alas! |
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At one first blow did shiver it as glass.
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Yet nothing can to nothing fall, |
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Nor any place be empty quite; |
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Therefore I think my breast hath all |
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Those pieces still, though they be not unite; |
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And now, as broken glasses show |
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A hundred lesser faces, so |
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My rags of heart can like, wish, and adore, |
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But after one such love, can love no more. |
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from “The Broken Heart,” John Donne
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