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John Wilbye
7 March 1574 - September 1638 / Brome, Suffolk
I Fall, I Fall
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I fall, I fall, O stay me,
Dear love, with joys you slay me,
Of life your lips deprive me,
Sweet, let your lips revive me,
O whither are you hasting,
And leave my life thus wasting?
My health on you relying,
‘Twere sin to leave me dying.
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