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 Well I know the heart's unrest;
Mine has been the common quest,
To be loved and therefore blest.
Favors undeserved were mine;
At my feet as on a shrine
Love has laid its gifts divine.
Sweet the offerings seemed, and yet
With their sweetness came regret,
And a sense of unpaid debt.
Heart of mine unsatisfied,
Was it vanity or pride
That a deeper joy denied?
Hands that ope but to receive
Empty close; they only live
Richly who can richly give. “
‘Still,’ she sighed, with moistening eyes,
“Love is sweet in any guise;
But its best is sacrifice!
He who, giving, does not crave
Likest is to Him who gave
Life itself the loved to save.
Love, that self-forgetful gives,
Sows surprise of ripened sheaves,
Late or soon its own receives. “
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