What Shall I Give?
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HAT shall I give my daughter the youngerMore than will keep her from cold and hunger?I shall not give her anything.If she shared South Weald and Havering,Their acres, the two brooks running between,Paine's Brook and Weald Brook,With pewit, woodpecker, swan, and rook,She would be no richer than the queenWho once on a time sat in Havering BowerAlone, with the shadows, pleasure and power.She could do no more with Samarcand,Or the mountains of a mountain landAnd its far white house above cottagesLike Venus above the Pleiades.Her small hands I would not cumberWith so many acres and their lumber,But leave her Steep and her own worldAnd her spectacled self with hair uncurled,Wanting a thousand little thingsThat time without contentment brings.
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