Page:Sonnets to Duse and other Poems.djvu/41

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Oh Loves there are that enter in, And Loves there are that wait, And Loves that sit a-weeping Whose joy will come too late.

For some there be that ope their doors, And some there be that close, And Love must go a-begging, But whither, no one knows.

His feet are on the thorny ways, And on the dew-cold grass, No ears have ever heard him sing, No eyes have seen him pass.