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WAITING.
195
I wonder if one died of joy
How long would be the dying ?
'Twere better so than bliss should cloy,
And smiling turn to sighing.
I could not tire, though endless years
Should stretch their weight above me ;
But other whither reach my fears,
If he should cease to love me !
Ah love, dear love ! before that day,
Destroy me, dear, I pray thee ;
Let Love's last kiss kiss life away,
And Love, in dying, slay me.
