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1858–1924

POEM: AT PARTING

Edith Nesbit

Go, since you must, but, Dearest, know That, Honour having bid you go, Your honour, if your life be spent, Shall have a costly monument.

This heart, that fire and roses is Beneath the magic of your kiss, Shall turn to marble if you die And be your deathless effigy.

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POEM: AT PARTING · Edith Nesbit · Poetry Cove