The Merchant, to Secure His Treasure The merchant, to secure his treasure, Conveys it in a borrowed name Euphelia serves to grace my measure, But Cloe is my real flame. My softest verse, my darling lyre Upon Euphelia's toilet lay - When Cloe noted her desire That I should sing, that I should play. My lyre I tune, my voice I raise, But with my numbers mix my sighs And whilst I sing Euphelia's praise, I fix my soul on Cloe's eyes. Fair Cloe blushed Euphelia frowned I sung, and gazed I played, and trembled And Venus to the Loves around Remarked how ill we all dissembled. (Edgar Allan Poe)

The Merchant, to Secure His Treasure The merchant, to secure his treasure, Conveys it in a borrowed name Euphelia serves to grace my measure, But Cloe is my real flame. My softest verse, my darling lyre Upon Euphelia's toilet lay - When Cloe noted her desire That I should sing, that I should play. My lyre I tune, my voice I raise, But with my numbers mix my sighs And whilst I sing Euphelia's praise, I fix my soul on Cloe's eyes. Fair Cloe blushed Euphelia frowned I sung, and gazed I played, and trembled And Venus to the Loves around Remarked how ill we all dissembled.

Edgar Allan Poe

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darling desire fair fix flame grace ill lay lyre measure merchant mix name numbers play praise raise real should sing soul toilet treasure tune venus verse voice eyes

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