And my tears, too, have stained this heirloomed ground,When reading in these treatises some weirdMiracle, I turned a leaf and foundA white hair fallen from my father's beard.
Why should I stay? Nor seed nor fruit have I,But, sprung at once to beauty’s perfect round,Nor loss nor gain nor change in me is found,—A life-complete in death-complete to die.john b. tabb
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