Prayer Let me not know how sins and sorrows glide Along the sombre city of our rage, Or why the sons of men are heavy-eyed. Let me not know, except from printed page, The pain of litter love, of baffled pride, Or sickness shadowing with a long presage. Let me not know, since happy some have died Quickly in youth or quietly in age, How faint, how loud the bravest hearts have cried. |
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