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no culture for my love, Hungrily my heart cried: ‘Knowledge, be my master, Turn, brain, O faster. Grind the seeds of wisdom fine, Till no mind be wise as mine, At my wit in smiting Men will smile delighting. 'Tis not too quick for craft, or Not too keen for laughter.’ Wise for love's sweet sake to be Surely is no vanity.

I had no fairness for my love. Hungrily my heart cried: ‘Beauty, be my handmaid! Leave me unafraid,