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 Sweetheart, when thou and I,

In very ecstasy,

Transfuse our souls in death,

Each panting amorous breath

But wafts us to the sky.

The goal of our desire

We reach with brain on fire,

But reach it to expire.

Alas, how low the fall

When passions duller burn;

Then Life begins to spurn

Love that will not return;

And Death is lord of all. Rh