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SONG
 
 
 
 
 
 
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9

SONG

Your loves have been many,
Mine but one;
You see each star in heaven,
I, the Sun.
You have gathered roses
In each glade;
I from my lone bower
Ne'er have strayed.
So—farewell, Belovèd!
We must take
Each our separate pathway—
For Love's sake.
Yet—in some far country
It may be,
You will love me only—
As I thee!
September, 1912.