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Algernon Charles Swinburne - Wasted LoveAlgernon Charles Swinburne - Wasted Love
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What shall be done for sorrow   With love whose race is run? Where help is none to borrow,   What shall be done? In vain his hands have spun   The web, or drawn the furrow: No rest their toil hath won. His task is all gone thorough,   And fruit thereof is none: And who dare say to-morrow   What shall be done?
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