THE TOOTH-ACHE CURED BY A KISS.|
FATE'S now grown merciful to men,
Turning disease to bliss ;
For had not kind rheum vext me then,
I might not Celia kiss.
Physicians, you are now my scorn,
For I have found a way
To cure diseases, when forlorn
By your dull art, which may
Patch up a body for a time,
But can restore to health
No more than chemists can sublime
True gold, the Indies' wealth.
That angel sure that used to move
The pool men so admired,
Hath to her lip, the seat of love,
As to his heaven, retired.
Vincent, Arthur, ed. The Poems of Thomas Carew.
London: George Routledge & Sons, Ltd., nd. 152.
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