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Take her up tenderly,

Lift her with care;
Fashioned so slenderly,
Young, and so fair!

Look at her garments Clinging like cerements; Whilst the wave constantly Drips from her clothing: Take her up instantly, Loving, not loathing.

Touch her not scornfully;
Think of her mournfully,
Gently and humanly;
Not of the stains of her
All that remains of her
Now is pure womanly.

Make no deep scrutiny
Into her mutiny

Rash and undutiful :

Past all dishonor,

Death has left on her

Only the beautiful.

Loop up her tresses Escaped from the comb, Her fair auburn tresses; While wonderment guesses Where was her home?

Who was her father?

Who was her mother?

Had she a sister?

Had she a brother?

Or was there a dearer one

Still, and a nearer one

Yet, than all other?

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"But why do I talk of death,
That Phantom of grizzly bone?
I hardly fear his terrible shape,
It seems so like my own;
It seems so like my own,

Because of the fasts I keep;

Oh, God! that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap!

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My labor never flags;

And what are its wages? A bed of straw,

A crust of bread, — and rags.

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That shattered roof, and this naked floor, —

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A table, a broken chair,

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And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank
For sometimes falling there!

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From weary chime to chime! Work,—work, — work,

As prisoners work for crime! Band, and gusset, and seam,

Seam, and gusset, and band,

Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed, As well as the weary hand.

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When the weather is warm and bright;

While underneath the eaves

The brooding swallows cling,

As if to show me their sunny backs,
And twit me with the Spring.

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