POEM: A SONNET BY SIR EDWARD DYER

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So silly I, with that une I run and rest as pleaseth love: The difference is, the satyrs lips, my heart, He for a while, I evermore, have smart.

Prometheus, when first from heaven high He brought down fire, till then on earth not seen; Fond of delight, a satyr, standing by, Gave it a kiss, as it like sweet had been.

Feeling forthwith the other burning power, Wood with the smart, with shouts and shrieking shrill, He sostill.

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