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 And I, could I stand by And see you freeze, Without my right of frost, Death's privilege?

Nor could I rise with you, Because your face Would put out Jesus', That new grace

Glow plain and foreign On my homesick eye, Except that you, than he Shone closer by.

They'd judge us—how? For you served Heaven, you know, Or sought to; I could not,

Because you saturated sight, And I had no more eyes For sordid excellence As Paradise.