  I so loved once, When Death came by I hid Away my face, And all my sweetheart's tresses she undid To make my hiding-place. The dread shade passed me thus unheeding; and I turned me then To calm my love—kiss down her shielding hand And comfort her again. And lo! she answered not: And she did sit All fixedly, With her fair face and the sweet smile of it, In love with Death, not me. |
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