The flight of love - Irony

She weeps, a queen,
As to defend
The very thought:
"It has an end";
And did she see this but this day,
Ah, 'tis too long,
They sail'd away.

Under faded stars, O love,
Doth ye fly,
On amourus wings
Through mortal sky;
And see the grief that thou did cause,
To comfort so softly:
For she is yours.

And strick'n pain,
Lo! upon that face
Should ne'er marr
Her immortal grace,
As tears stain thoes flawless cheeks:
Love flies past,

The maiden weeps.

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