[1] The forward violet thus did I chide:
[2] Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
[3] If not from my love's breath? The purple pride
[4] Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
[5] In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.
[6] The lily I condemned for thy hand,
[7] And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair:
[8] The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
[9] One blushing shame, another white despair;
[10] A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both
[11] And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath;
[12] But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth
[13] A vengeful canker eat him up to death.
[14] More flowers I noted, yet I none could see
[15] But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.
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