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Augusta Davies Webster - WAITING, waiting"
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WAITING, waiting. `Tis so far
    To the day that is to come:
One by one the days that are
    All to tell their countless sum;
Each to dawn and each to die—
What so far as by and by?

Waiting, waiting. `Tis not ours,
    This to-day that flies so fast:
Let them go, the shadowy hours,
    Floating, floated, into Past.
Our day wears to-morrow`s sky—
What so near as by and by?
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