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we must do and may not do. This is the World’s whole refrain, Till beating on the wearied brain, We wonder what is true.

My love! my love! who passes by, As Fate hath willed ere we were born, Could I but face the people’s scorn. And tell my love, or die.

But this is not a woman’s part, A careless brow you dare to show; She smiles upon you as you go, To hide a breaking heart.

My friend did take my hand to-day, Light kisses laid upon my face; My sad reproach was in its place— She could not tell me Nay!