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Wessex Poems and Other Verses
Thomas Hardy #18

Page 149 of 149

By hearts grown cold to me,
Could lonely wait my endless rest
With equanimity. 

But Time, to make me grieve;
Part steals, lets part abide;
And shakes this fragile frame at eve
With throbbings of noontide. 

End of Project Gutenberg Etext Wessex Poems and Other Verses, by Hardy 


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