I will accept thy will to do and be,
Thy hatred and intolerance of sin,
Thy will at least to love, that burns within
And thirsteth after Me:
So will I render fruitful, blessing still,
The germs and...
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It is a common fate—a woman's lot— |
There's blood between us, love, my love, |
A great stone man rose like a tower on board, |
Some cawing Crows, a hooting Owl, |
Long since, I lived beneath vast porticoes, |
When I was dead, my spirit turned |
Her — "last Poems" — |
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Where'er he be, on water or land, |