< Page:Prometheus bound - Browning (1833).djvu
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TO VICTOIRE, ON HER MARRIAGE.
139
And though I clasp no more thy hand
In my hand, and rejoice—
And though I see thy face no more,
And hear no more thy voice—
Farewell, farewell!—let thought of me
Visit thine heart! There is
In mine the very selfish prayer,
That prayeth for thy bliss!
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