Love is flung Lucifer-like from Heaven to Hell.
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ho cry for shadows, clutch, and cannot tellWhether they love at all, or, loving, whom: An old song’s lady, a fool in fancy dress,Or phantoms, or their own face on the gloom; For love of Love, or from heart’s loneliness.Pleasure’s not theirs, nor pain. They doubt, and sigh,And do not love at all. Of these am I. 50
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