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A Year of Poetry – Day 207

Without discord
And both accord
Now let us be;
Both hearts alone
To set in one
Best seemeth me.
For when one soul
Is in the dole
Of lovë’s pain,
Then help must have
Himself to save
And love to obtain.

Wherefore now we
That lovers be,
Let us now pray,
Once love sure
For to procure
Without denay.
Where love so sues
There no heart rues,
But condescend;
If contrary,
What remedy?
God it amend.

— King Henry VIII, Without Discord

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