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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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XXI.

9 lines
Lord Byron·1788–1824·Romanticism
nd here and there, as up the crags you spring,Mark many rude-carved crosses near the path:[48]Yet deem not these Devotion's offering--These are memorials frail of murderous wrath:For wheresoe'er the shrieking victim hathPour'd forth his blood beneath the assassin's knife,Some hand erects a cross of mouldering lath;And grove and glen with thousand such are rifeThroughout this purple land, where Law secures not life.[3.B.]