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LXXIII
Ah Love ! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits—and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire.
LXXIV
Ah, Moon of my Delight who know'st no wane,
The moon of Heav'n is rising once again:
How oft hereafter rising shall she look
Through this same Garden after me—in vain!
