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A poem of...
William Blake
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William Blake
English, 1757-1827
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Untitled
Never seek to tell thy love
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind doth move
Silently, invisibly.
I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart,
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears—
Ah, she doth depart.
Soon as she was gone from me
A traveller came by
Silently, invisibly—
He took her with a sigh
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