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 | Collected poems of Herman Melville |  |
1
She will come tho' she loiter, believe,Her pledge it assigns not the day;
Why brood by the embers night after night,
Sighing over their dying away—
Well, let her delay;
She is everywhere longed for as here;
A favorite, freakish and young:
Her can we gladden, then us she can cheer?
Let us think no wrong.
| Collected poems of Herman Melville | |