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| TIME does not bring relief; you all have lied | |
| Who told me time would ease me of my pain! | |
| I miss him in the weeping of the rain; | |
| I want him at the shrinking of the tide; | |
| The old snows melt from every mountain-side, | 5 |
| And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane; | |
| But last year’s bitter loving must remain | |
| Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide! | |
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| There are a hundred places where I fear | |
| To go,—so with his memory they brim! | 10 |
| And entering with relief some quiet place | |
| Where never fell his foot or shone his face | |
| I say, “There is no memory of him here!” | |
And so stand stricken, so remembering him!
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