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Deserted

O Love, my love, it's over then—Your heart flies free;

And it's now no more us two again,

The door on you and me.

And it's now no more the supper spread,

The stove singing low.

Oh, worlds away your feet are led,

Where wild winds blow!

Oh, seas between and worlds

Our paths run now.

Go, for more dead than coffined

Is love's dead vow.

Go, may your bread be sweet, your rest As soft and deep be As when you slept upon my breast And gave the world for me.

Go, for my heart cries out with pain,

With joy cries out.

Go ! you've unwound the golden chain—Love's hope, love's doubt.

Go! you were mine—now mine shall be The whole brave world.

My spirit flutters and is free,

With wings unfurled.

Out of my little house of bliss,

O lost love sweet,

Out of my grief and loneliness Now will I rise to greet My friend who begs in the street below,

My friend who prays above;

And each will be—oh, well I know!—You—you, lost love.

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Harriet Monroe

Harriet Monroe (December 23, 1860 – September 26, 1936) was an American editor, scholar, literary critic, poet, and patron of the arts. She was …
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