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Amy Levy - The Lost FriendAmy Levy - The Lost Friend
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The people take the thing of course,    They marvel not to see This strange, unnatural divorce    Betwixt delight and me. I know the face of sorrow, and I know Her voice with all its varied cadences; Which way she turns and treads; how at her ease Things fit her dreary largess to bestow. Where sorrow long abides, some be that grow To hold her dear, but I am not of these; Joy is my friend, not sorrow; by strange seas, In some far land we wandered, long ago. O faith, long tried, that knows no faltering! O vanished treasure of her hands and face!— Beloved—to whose memory I cling, Unmoved within my heart she holds her place. And never shall I hail that other "friend," Who yet shall dog my footsteps to the end.
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