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There s a regret So grinding so immitigably

There""s a regret
So grinding so immitigably sad
Remorse thereby feels tolerant even glad. ...
Do you not know it yet?

For deeds undone
Rnakle and snarl and hunger for their due
Till there seems naught so despicable as you
In all the grin o"" the sun.

Like an old shoe
The sea spurns and the land abhors you lie
About the beach of Time till by and by
Death that derides you too

Death as he goes
His ragman""s round espies you where you stray
With half an eye and kicks you out of his way
And then and then who knows

But the kind Grave
Turns on you and you feel the convict Worm
In that black bridewell working out his term
Hanker and grope and crave?

"Poor fool that might
That might yet would not dared not let this be
Think of it here and thus made over to me
In the implacable night!"

And writhing fain
And like a triumphing lover he shall take
His fill where no high memory lives to make
His obscene victory vain. .

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