Let now the willow weep no more
That wept within his mind,
But bear the long leaves that it bore,
Left for a while behind,
While he lies easy in a place
Where beds need little change,
And where the bedfellow to face
Shall not be lost nor strange.
Even to persons born as he,
Knowing too much to know,
Except that there is spring to see
And blossoms hung like
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