In nighted slumber my love lies forgotten.
No muse see I to cleanse my fouled heart.
And now is love in me at last forsaken
Then Cupid dies, and tarnished stands his art.
But is this life a waste if solitary?
For once I yearned to savour love's allure
But age to wisdom leads and I am learning,
That youth loves all but age loves only pure.
This cynicism
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