Ye who have the stable world
1
In the keeping of your hands,
Flocks and men, the lasting hills,
And the ever-wheeling stars;
Ye who freight with wondrous things
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The wide-wandering heart of man
And the galleon of the moon,
On those silent seas of foam;
Oh, if ever ye shall grant
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Time and place and room enough
To this fond and fragile heart
Stifled with the throb of love,
On that day one grave-eyed Fate,
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Pausing in her toil, shall say,
"Lo, one mortal has achieved