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 When my love was away, 
Full three days were not sped, 
I caught my fancy astray 
Thinking if she were dead, 

And I alone, alone: 
It seem'd in my misery 
In all the world was none 
Ever so lone as I.
I wept; but it did not shame Nor comfort my heart: away I rode as I might, and came To my love at close of day.
The sight of her still'd my fears, My fairest-hearted love: And yet in her eyes were tears: Which when I question'd of, 'O now thou art come,' she cried, ''Tis fled: but I thought to-day I never could here abide, If thou wert longer away.

by Robert Seymour Bridges
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