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The Mid-World

 THIS is the red, red region
Your heart must journey through:
Your pains will here be legion
And joy be death for you.
Rejoice to-day: to-morrow A turning tide shall flow Through infinite tones of sorrow To reach an equal woe.
You pass by love unheeding To gain the goal you long— But my heart, my heart is bleeding: I cannot sing this song.

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