  You I love, You and you: One I never see And one I know. Well, and what then? Nothing. But, I ask, Does the wind blow? Do feet drift or go? And where? How shall a tinker mend A pinch of dust? Some things are mine to keep, Some to share: My thoughts I bear Because I must; My love I spend Because I wish, On you I never see, On you I know,— Everywhere. |
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