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 A poor little place; but you lived here—here you sat at your ease, Shut the door and were private, with only yourself to please, King, and alone: as in my heart you were King and alone. But....the wharé and I weren’t wanted; and our only owner’s gone.

Philip, why did you leave us? Philip! Philip! O Philip! If it could all go back, even to a week ago— When, with you at the shed still, the worst hadn’t all come true! When you hadn’t gone to better yourself—and my best hadn’t gone with you!

Nothing to blame you for—Oh, no, no! from beginning to end, You were only easy, and kind—and a bit my friend. Maybe you’re promised to some one, at Home there, over the sea.... ..Kiss nor promise between us, and yet—I am not free!

Oh, I can’t help it! I can’t care whether it’s wrong or right!— Thinking of you I wake each morning, and fall asleep each night. There’s no comfort and no sense in being a hypocrite— You didn’t love me, but I love you! And I’m proud of myself for it!