Dear Lady, loquacious in your speech,
the sea a pooling teardrop on your cheek,
I seek to navigate that flowing tear
though bluffs of treachery must soon appear
whose cliffs resist the reaching water’s height
sustaining privilege through the mask of night;
my heart cannot propose to be alive
if I remain unequal in your eyes,
better I be slain by English ships
than to be an affront to your lips.
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