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O’er this vile vest; and let the love thou hast
Flush this cold white to a red rose of shame.
And whilst Thou pardonest, Thou the very same,
My different sins, O pardon this the last -
This little song-shaft, full of motes that glance;
This little gem, full of the flaw that pales;
This little verse-book, full of verse that fails;
This little music, full of dissonance ;
This little wild-rose, full of dust within ;
This little sin that is brimfull of sin.

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