Love seek not itself to please,
Nor for itself hate any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hell`s despair;
So sing a little Clod of Clay,
Trodden with the cattle`s feet,
But a pebble of the brook,
Warbled out these meters meet;
Love seeker only self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another`s loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heaven`s despite.
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