Susan Herbert´s cats (III)
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There is a willow grows aslant the
brook
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy
stream;
There with fantastic garlands did she
come
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies and
long purples
That liberal shepherds give a grosser
name,
But our cold maids do dead men´s
fingers call them.
(Hamlet)
*****
Come, sit thee down upon this
flow´ry bed,
While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,
And stick musk-roses in thy sleek
smooth head,
And kiss thy fair large ears, my
gentle joy.
(A Midsummer Night´s Dream)
*****
By the Lord, a buck basket! Ramm´d
me in with foul shirts and smocks,
socks, foul stockings!
(The Merry Wives of Windsor)
*****
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