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Poem	The Luxury to apprehend The Luxury 'twould be To look at Thee a single time An Epicure of Me In whatsoever Presence makes Till for a further Food I scarcely recollect to starve So first am I supplied -- The Luxury to meditate The Luxury it was To banguet on thy Countenance A Sumptuousness bestows On plainer Days, whose Table far As Certainty can see Is laden with a single Crumb The Consciousness of Thee.
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