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" "All, wherein I have part, All that was loss or gain, Slips from the clasping heart, Breaks from the grasping brain. <p> Lo, what is left? I am bare As a new-born soul, — I am naught: My deeds are dust in air, My words are ghosts of thought. I ride through the night alone, Detached from the life that seemed, And the best I have felt or known Is less than the least I dreamed.
Bayard Taylor (11 January 1825 – 19 December 1878) was an American poet, literary critic, translator, travel author, and diplomat.
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From the Desert I come to thee On a stallion shod with fire; And the winds are left behind In the speed of my desire. Under thy window I stand, And the midnight hears my cry: I love thee, I love but thee, With a love that shall not die Till the sun grows cold, And the stars are old, And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!
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