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To Manon On His Fortune In Loving Her

I

ID not choose thee, dearest.

It was

That made the choice, not I.

Mine eyes were

As a rude shepherd's who to some lone

His offering brings and cares not at what

He bends his knee.

The gifts alone were mine;

The rest was Love's.

He took me by the hand,

And fired the sacrifice, and poured the wine,

And spoke the words I might not understand.  I was unwise in all but the dear

Which was my fortune, and the blind

Which led my foolish steps to Love's abode,

And youth's sublime unreason'd

Which raised an altar and inscribed in

Its dedication To the Unknown God.

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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Wilfrid Scawen Blunt (17 August 1840[1] – 10 September 1922[2]), sometimes spelled Wilfred, was an English poet and writer. He and his wife, Lad…

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