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I HEED not that my earthly lot
Hath —— little of Earth in it —
That years of love have been forgot
In the hatred of a minute: —
I mourn not that the desolate
Are happier, sweet, than I,
But that you sorrow for my fate
Who am a passer by.
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Notes:
None.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
[S:0 - JHW11, 1911] - Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore - Works - To ---- (ed. J. H. Whitty, 1911)