< Page:Collected poems vol 1 de la mare.djvu
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MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD

I cannot weep.
He lifts me
Hot from sleep

In marble hands
To where on high
The jewelled horror
Of his eye
Dares me to struggle
Or cry.

No breast wherein
To chase away
That watchful shape!
Vain, vain to say
"Haunt not with night

The Day!"

82

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