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A QUESTION OF TIME.

Like a prisoner waiting for death alone

From you am I barr'd for ever, tho'.

Your heart to mine is a heart of stone!

I shall have patience: wait and wait:

Never does love, like the world, grow old.

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I linger and loiter at the gate,

Tho' the moon be dim and the night be cold.

Yet (let me whisper it!) time may be,

Far off or near - I know not - when

The love I lack may be granted me;

And I may not care for your answer, then!

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