IN THREE DAYS
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o, I shall see her in three daysAnd just one night, but nights are short,Then two long hours, and that is morn.See how I come, unchanged, unworn!Feel, where my life broke off from thine, 5How fresh the splinters keep and fine--Only a touch and we combine! Too long, this time of year, the days!But nights, at least the nights are short.As night shows where her one moon is, 10A hand's-breadth of pure light and bliss,So life's night gives my lady birthAnd my eyes hold her! What is worthThe rest of heaven, the rest of earth? O loaded curls, release your store 15Of warmth and scent, as once beforeThe tingling hair did, lights and darksOutbreaking into fairy sparks,When under curl and curl I priedAfter the warmth and scent inside, 20Through lights and darks how manifold--The dark inspired, the light controlled!As early Art embrowns the gold. What great fear, should one say, "Three daysThat change the world might change as well 25Your fortune; and if joy delays,Be happy that no worse befell!"What small fear, if another says,"Three days and one short night besideMay throw no shadow on your ways; 30But years must teem with change untried,With chance not easily defied,With an end somewhere undescried."No fear!--or if a fear be bornThis minute, it dies out in scorn. 35Fear? I shall see her in three daysAnd one night, now the nights are short,Then just two hours, and that is morn.
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