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Far away is close at hand
Close joined is far away,
Love will come at your command
Yet will not stay.

At summons of your dream-despair,
She might not disobey,
But slid down beside you there
And complaisant lay.

Yet now her flesh and blood consent
In the hours of day,
Joy and passion both are spent,
Twining clean away.

Is the person empty air,
Is the spectre clay,
That love, lent substance by despair,
Wanes and leaves you lonely there
On the bridal day?

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