Hope-Hour Rubbed Its Sun - Poem by James McLain
you n' did not come, and the up time drew above,
and carried numb.
however less for the loss of your dear presence
there that/that I thus found
that missing in yours made this high compassion
which can overbear hesitation for
pure; is it's sake the sake' it is thus affected, when,
because lot's hope-hour rubbed its sun, n' you did not come.
you do not like, and only it's love
can lend fidelity to you; - i know and knew it. but,
with the store of the human contact
guess in all except the name, was it?
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You