"Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, Stray lower, to where the pleasant fountains lie, And if those founts be dry, stray lower yet, For moist with heaven’s dew the valleys sigh
Your founts ne’er will be dry and lower yet, your valleys ere will be in gushing spate. The sighs I hear will be in fullness deep requited. For the one to whom that I so want to graze upon my lips, stray lower still for I am moist with heaven’s dew and my valleys are sighing so………………………………… (Wm. Shakespeare)"
Your founts ne’er will be dry and lower yet, your valleys ere will be in gushing spate. The sighs I hear will be in fullness deep requited. For the one to whom that I so want to graze upon my lips, stray lower still for I am moist with heaven’s dew and my valleys are sighing so………………………………… (Wm. Shakespeare)"
