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LXXXVII


Hadst thou with all thy loveliness been true,
  1
Had I with all my tenderness been strong,
We had not made this ruin out of life,
This desolation in a world of joy,
My poor Gorgo.

Yet even the high gods at times do err;
  6
Be therefore thou not overcome with woe,
But dedicate anew to greater love
An equal heart, and be thy radiant self
Once more, Gorgo.







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