William Strode Poems

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'Tis vayne to add a ring or gemme,
Your eare itselfe outpasseth them.


When idle words are passing here,
I warne and pull you by the eare.


This silken chayne stands wayting here
For golden tongues to tye on there.


Here silken twynes, there locks you see--
Now tell me which the softer bee?

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