RabLani
Posts: 16
Joined: 12/31/2013 Status: offline
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The poet declares his love for the instrument of his correction so beautifully handled by his lady... Dread scourge of love and pain with quickened beat My heart does thrill to think of you and fears The justice you dispense but yet the heat Of passion rises to burn my limbs and sears My very core as fond before your feet I fall and even beg for blows with tears And longing cries that sternest mistress treat Me with that cruelest love I’ve craved for years Oh envied lash that lies in Lady’s hand Come let me place my lips upon the thong And whisper wooing words your favours so To win. Sweet crop come make my longing grow With fragrant flagellation all night long The laws of love these sacred strokes demand.
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