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Stephen Crane

I looked here;

I looked there;

Nowhere could I see my love.

And--this time--

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I.

8 lines
John Milton·1608–1674
t was the winter wild,While the heaven-born child 30All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;Nature, in awe to him,Had doffed her gaudy trim,With her great Master so to sympathize:It was no season then for her 35To wanton with the Sun, her lusty paramour.