We are the toilers from whom God barred
The gifts that are good to hold.
We meant full well and we tried full hard,
And our failures were manifold. ...
LADY, in thy proud eyes
There is a weary look,
As if the spirit we know through them
Were daunted with rebuke
To think that the heart of man henceforth
Is read like a read book.
Lady, in thy lifted face
The solitude is sore;
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