Poem: Love
TELL me where is Fancy bred,
Or is the heart or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?
Reply, reply,
It is engender’d in the eyes,
With gazing fed; and Fancy dies
In the cradle where is lied
Let us all ring fancy’s knell:
I’ll begin it,--Ding, dong, bell.
All. Ding, dong, bell.
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