| Too much I love this world You made
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| Her colors sting like death
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| Her shapes and movements drown my heart
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| Her beauties halt my breath
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| Her vistas, music, flavors and smells
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| My frailties overrun
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| I often swoon when shines her moon
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| Nor dare outstare her sun
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| I live on brinks of sweet-sickness
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| So much a boy should bear
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| If rumored heaven betters this
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| I beg for new eyes there
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| New ears to listen, more supple tongue
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| To mimic holy tunes
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| And simpler nose to fill my lung
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| With long-forgot perfumes
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| But if you choose to change me not
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| Please offer mercy’s cover
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| Lest I should die where death is not
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| And spoil New Eden’s lovers
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| Too much I love this world You made
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| She echoes better places
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| And homesicks me 'til we shall see
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| Direct, with unveiled faces |