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And sore's my sorrow parted long from you, * And short's my arm to reach the prize I see; And mourning grief for what my patience marred * To blamer's eye unveiled my secresy; And waxed strait that whilome was so wide * Patience nor force remains nor power to dree. Would Heaven I knew if God will ever deign to join * Our lives, and from our cark and care and grief set free!"
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