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Poem by William Dean Howells What Shall It Profit? IF I lay waste and wither up with doubt The blessed fields of heaven where once my faith Possessed itself serenely safe from death; If I deny the things past finding out; Or if I orphan my own soul of One That seemed a Father, and make void the place Within me where He dwelt in power and grace, What do I gain by that I have undone? William Dean Howells William Dean Howells's other poems: 1229 Views |
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