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, in wintry weather, How close we crept together! The storms, with all their thunder, Could not our fond hands sunder. No sorrow followed after, Cold words or scornful laughter. How close we crept together, Through all the wintry weather!

Dear, when each rose uncurled To its sweet narrow world, You went to cull their glory; You would not hear my story, Too sweet the birds were singing, Too fair the buds were swinging. If I should come or go You did not care to know.