Poetry, Lyrics, and Quotes

Henry Pucell (1659-1695)
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Rose, Large

If Music Be the Food of Love
 
If Music Be the Food of Love
Sing on till I am fill'd with joy;
For then my list'ning sould you move
To pleasures that never cloy.
Your eyes, your mien, your tongue declare
That you are music ev'rywhere.
 
Sweeter Than Roses
 
Sweeter than roses, or cool evening breeze
On a warm flowery shore, was the dear kiss,
First trembling made me freeze,
Then shot like fire all o'er.
What magic has victorious love!
For all I touch or see since that dear kiss,
I hourly prove, all is love to me.