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A Minor Poet and other Verse. Levy, Amy, 1861–1889.
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page: 71

V.

Shelley, that sprite from the spheres above, Says, and would make the matter clear, That love divided is larger love ;— We’ll leave those things to the bards, my dear. page: 72 For you never wrote a verse, you see ; And I—my verse is not fair nor new. Till the world be dead, you shall love but me, Till the stars have ceased, I shall love but you.
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