'TIS you not I, have chosen Love, go free!
No cry of mine shall hold you on your way.
I wept above the dead Past yesterday: —
Let it lie now where all fair dead things be,
Beneath the waves of Time's all-whelming sea.
Forget it or remember — come what may —
The time is past when one could bid it stay:
What boots it any more to you or me?

It was my life — what matter? — I am dead,
And if I seem to move, or speak, or smile,
If some strange round of being still I tread
And am not buried, for a little while,
Yet, look you, Love, I am not what I seem:
I died when died my faith in that dear dream.
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