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Love Sonnet 74: She comes as topping of my cake, the cream,

She comes as topping of my cake, the cream,
As soulful song, my misty morning sings,
Or wistful wisp of lonely dreamer's dream,
If not as scent, rose-planted garden brings;
She touches soft, as dew or falling mist,
Or gentle breeze wafted on cooler days,
Or butterfly, alighting on your wrist,
Then flies, as if guilty for its displays;
I wish to spin a web that stores her smile,
To tide me out when joy reserves are low,
Or hide some other smile that may beguile,
As more pernicious winds would come to blow;
…….I knew not love with any other name,
…….It has tasted so sweet while still the same.

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