Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow...
And with some sweet oblivious antidote
Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow...
And with some sweet oblivious antidote
Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?