< Poems upon Several Occasions
THE SAME.
CLarinda, with a haughty Grace,
In scornful Postures sets her Face,
And looks as she were born alone
To give us Love, and take from none
Tho' I adore to that degree,
Clarinda, I wou'd die for thee,
If you're too proud to ease my Pain,
I am too proud for your Disdain.
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