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Mary Elizabeth Coleridge - PunctilioMary Elizabeth Coleridge - Punctilio
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O LET me be in loving nice, Dainty, fine, and o’er precise, That I may charm my charmàd dear As tho’ I felt a secret fear To lose what never can be lost,— Her faith who still delights me most! So shall I be more than true, Ever in my ageing new. So dull habit shall not be Wrongly call’d Fidelity.
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