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She, To Him IV

Topics: classic

This love puts all humanity from me;     I can but maledict her, pray her dead,     For giving love and getting love of thee -     Feeding a heart that else mine own had fed!     How much I love I know not, life not known,     Save as some unit I would add love by;     But this I know, my being is but thine own     Fused from its separateness by ecstasy.     And thus I grasp thy amplitudes, of her     Ungrasped, though helped by nigh-regarding eyes;     Canst thou then hate me as an envier     Who see unrecked what I so dearly prize?     Believe me, Lost One, Love is lovelier     The more it shapes its moan in selfish-wise.     1866.

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"This love puts all humanity from me;..."

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