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 HY was I born, ye angels ? was it well? Ye might have killed me, such a little thing ! And I had been in Heaven all this while, And missed mine heritage of suffering. Would it have been a loss ? I cannot tell ; God knows. Why cry and moan ? what matters anything ? Why vex the quiet air with vain complaints ? The army of immortals marches on, And must not tarry, though one, footsore, faints ; Would it be better if another stayed ? God knows.