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The Dog by Jean de La Fontaine

THE key, which opens the chest of hoarded gold.

Unlocks the heart that favours would withhold.

To this the god of love has oft recourse,

When arrows fail to reach the secret source,

And I’ll maintain he’s right, for, ‘mong mankind,

Nice presents ev’ry where we pleasing find;

Kings, princes, potentates, receive the same,

And when a lady thinks she’s not to blame

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