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I have not loved the world, nor the world me,
But let us part fair foes; I do believe,

Though I have found them not, that there may be
Words which are things,


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hopes which will not

And virtues which are merciful, nor weave
Snares for the failing: I would also deem
O'er others' grifs that some sincerly grieve; 25
That two, or one, are almost what they scem,
That goodness is no name, and happiness no dream.


My daughter! with thy name this song began My daughter! with thy name thus much shall endI see thee not, I hear thee not, but none Can be so wrapt in thee; thou art the friend To whom the shadows of far years extend: Albeit my brow thou never should'st behold, My voice shall with thy future visions blend, And reach into thy heart, when mine is cold,A token and a tone, even from thy father's mould.

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To aid thy mind's developement,

Thy dawn of little joys,
Almost thy very growth,
Knowledge of objects,


to watch

to sit and see

to view thee catch

wonders yet to thee!

To hold thee lightly on a gentle knee,

Aud print on thy soft cheek a parent's kiss,

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This, it should seem, was not reserv'd for me; Yet this was in my nature:

as it is,

I know not what is there, yet something like to this


Yet, though dull Hate as duty should be taught,
I know that thou wilt love me; though my name
Should be shut from thee, as a spell still fraught

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I know that thou wilt love me; though to drain
My blood from out thy being, were an aim,
And an attainment, all would be in vain,
Still thou would'st love me, still that more than life


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Shall be more tempered, and thy hope far higher. Sweet be thy cradled slumbers! O'er the sea, And from the mountains where I now respire, Fain would I waft such blessing upon thee,

As, with a sigh, I deem thou might's have been to



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