to f-s s. o-d

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[ huit ]

thou wouldst be loved?—then let thy heart
from its present pathway part not!
being every thing which now thou art,
be nothing which thou art not.
so with the world thy gentle ways,
thy grace, thy more than beauty,
shall be an endless theme of praise
and love—a simple duty.

to f—s s. o—d by edgar allan poe

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