Emlyn Dickinson's Herbarium
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This being comfort, then
That other kind was pain;
But why compare?
I'm wife! stop there!
She rose to his requirement, dropped
The playthings of her life
To take the honorable work
Of woman and of wife.
If aught she missed in her new day
Of amplitude, or awe,
Or first prospective, or the gold
In using wore away,

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