Song To Celia by Ben Jonson

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Come, my Celia, let us prove,
While we may, the sports of love;
Time will not be ours for ever:
He at length our good will sever.
Spend not then his gifts in vain.
Suns that set, may rise again:
But if once we lose this light,
‘Tis with us perpetual night.
Why should we defer our joys?
Fame and rumor are but toys.
Cannot we delude the eyes
Of a few poor household spies;
Or his easier ears buguile,
So removed by our wile?
‘Tis no sin love’s fruit to steal,
But the sweet theft to reveal:
To be taken, to be seen,
These have crimes accounted been.

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