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IV—“WHAT WOULD I WIN THEE TO?”

What would I win thee to? dear heart and true!
A thought of bliss, a thornless life? Ah no!
Through weeping pain, Love, I would let thee go;
Through weary days and widowed nights; yea, through

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The Valley of the Shadow, without rue,
If thou couldst gain the goal, Love, even so.
I would not win thee to a fruitful woe;
To best of earth or best beyond the blue.
And most of all would thy true lover scorn
To win thee to himself; thou shalt be free
To have or hate! But O, my golden morn!
Behold thy lover's passionate bravery—
Mighty, unresting, stedfast, heaven-born—
To win thee to the light, which is—to thee!