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190 My love, in his desolate greatness, Pursuing his stedfast way, And thinking, perchance, in the twilight, Of words I was forced to say. If bodily life were in danger, I then might hold out my hand ; But as it is only his spirit, Our friendship must cancelled stand. Oh, pitiful fashion of loving ! Oh, pitiful pride of mine ! Love, come once again. 1 am waiting For thee, to be thine, all thine !

ADAMANT regiment of houses ! O commonplace walling me in ! O gates that but open on darkness ! O thoroughfares leading to sin !