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Poem

AT the last, tenderly,
From the walls of the powerful, fortress’d house,
From the clasp of the knitted locks–from the keep of the well-closed
doors,
Let me be wafted.

Let me glide noiselessly forth;
With the key of softness unlock the locks–with a whisper,
Set ope the doors, O Soul!

Tenderly! be not impatient!
(Strong is your hold, O mortal flesh!
Strong is your hold, O love.) 10

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