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Poem	Let him answer as he will, Or be lightsome as he may, Now nor after shall he say Worn-out words enough to kill, Or to lull down by their craft, Doubt, that was born yesterday, When he lied and when she laughed. Let him and another name for the starlight on the snow, Let him teach her till she know That all seasons are the same, And all sheltered ways are fair,— Still, wherever she may go, Doubt will have a dwelling there.
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