How
careful was I when I took my way,
Each
trifle under truest bars to thrust,
That to my
use it might unused stay
From hands
of falsehood, in sure wards of trust!
But thou,
to whom my jewels trifles are,
Most
worthy comfort, now my greatest grief,
Thou best
of dearest, and mine only care,
Art left
the prey of every vulgar thief.
Thee have
I not locked up in any chest,
Save where
thou art not, though I feel thou art,
Within the
gentle closure of my breast,
From
whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part,
And even
thence thou wilt be stol'n I fear,
For truth
proves thievish for a prize so dear.
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