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Poem

Oh you are coming, coming, coming,
How will hungry Time put by the hours till then? —
But why does it anger my heart to long so
For one man out of the world of men?

Oh I would live in myself only
And build my life lightly and still as a dream —
Are not my thoughts clearer than your thoughts
And colored like stones in a running stream?

Now the slow moon brightens in heaven,
The stars are ready, the night is here —
Oh why must I lose myself to love you,
My dear?

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