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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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The Hymn.

9 lines
John Milton·1608–1674
 IT was the Winter wilde,While the Heav'n-born-childe, 30All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;Nature in aw to himHad doff't her gawdy trim,With her great Master so to sympathize:It was no season then for herTo wanton with the Sun her lusty Paramour.