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"POOR LOVE!" SAID LIFE
"Poor Love!" said Life, "that hast nor gold,
Nor lands, nor other store, I ween;
Thy very shelter from the cold
Is oft but lowly built and mean."
"Nay: though of rushes be my bed,
Yet am I rich," Love said.
"But," argued Life, "thrice fond art thou
To yield the sovereign gifts of Earth—
The victor sword, the laureled brow—
For visioned things of little worth!"
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