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It might be lonelier
Without the Loneliness-
I'm so accustomed to my Fate-
Perhaps the Other-Peace-

Would interrupt the Dark-
And crowd the little Room-
Too scant-by Cubits-to contain
The Sacrament-of Him-

I am not used to Hope-
It might intrude upon-
Its sweet parade-blaspheme the place-
Ordained to Suffering-

It might be easier
To fail-with Land in Sight-
Than gain-My Blue Peninsula-
To perish-of Delight-