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Sonnet #4

First draft caveat, as usual.

Phobos’s rays have never shone as bright
As on this day, and Flora’s bountious blooms
Sweet scent the air and fill it with delight,
Whilst Juno’s blessing comes with peacock plumes,
With pomp and splendor suited for this hour.
The Corycian nymphs, the Muses, sing
Thy praises as they lead thee to thy bower,
Apollo’s lyre, himself, accompanying.
‘Tis Eros offers up the wedding toast,
With wine that Bacchus make’st to flow so free;
Venus dare’st not show her face -- her boast
Of peerless beauty would be shamed by thee.
I will to Venus hie, and in her arms,
Seek solace, and fore’er forget thy charms.
  

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