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 My perfect health restored, he took His mien austere again; And, as before, he would not brook The slightest fault from Jane. The longest task, the hardest theme Fell to my share as erst, And still I toiled to place my name In every study first. He yet begrudged and stinted praise, But I had learnt to read The secret meaning of his face, And that was my best meed. Even when his hasty temper spoke In tones that sorrow stirred, My grief was lulled as soon as woke By some relenting word. And when he lent some precious book, Or gave some fragrant flower, I did not quail to Envy's look, Upheld by Pleasure's power.