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Revealing day through every cranny spies, (1087)

And seems to point her out where she sits weeping; (1088)

To whom she sobbing speaks: 'O eye of eyes, (1089)

Why pry'st thou through my window? leave thy peeping: (1090)

Mock with thy tickling beams eyes that are sleeping:
Brand not my forehead with thy piercing light, (1092)

For day hath nought to do what's done by night.'

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