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Page:Further Poems Emily-1929.djvu/210

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"TILL death" is narrow loving;The scantiest heart extantWill hold you, till yourPrivilegeOf finiteness be spent.
But he whose loss procures youSuch destitution thatYour life, too abject for itself,Thenceforward imitate—
Until, resemblance perfect,Yourself for his pursuitDelight of nature abdicate,Exhibit love somewhat.