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"To the Unattainable"

   Oh, that my blood were water, thou athirst,
   And thou and I in some far Desert land,
   How would I shed it gladly, if but first
   It touched thy lips, before it reached the sand.

   Once,—Ah, the Gods were good to me,—I threw
   Myself upon a poison snake, that crept
   Where my Beloved—a lesser love we knew
   Than this which now consumes me wholly—slept.

   But thou; Alas, what can I do for thee?
   By Fate, and thine own beauty, set above
   The need of all or any aid from me,
   Too high for service, as too far for love.

Poem by Adela Florence Cory Nicolson
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