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“Ideas and time ne’er backward move;

My soul I cannot renovate⁠—

I love you with a brother’s love,

Perchance one more affectionate.

Listen to me without disdain.

A maid hath oft, may yet again

Replace the visions fancy drew;

Thus trees in spring their leaves renew

As in their turn the seasons roll.

’Tis evidently Heaven’s will

You fall in love again. But still⁠—

Learn to possess more self-control.

Not all will like myself proceed⁠—

And thoughtlessness to woe might lead.”