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1876–1944

XXVIII

Helen Hay Whitney

Bid me for your sake, Not for self or right — You alone can wake Power to gain the fight.

In your name I'd dare Aught in earth's great bounds; Forth my sins should fare, Leashed like cringing hounds.

When you touch my hand, Through your holy eyes I can see the land Where is Paradise.

Yet I may not go, Leaving cold and night, Till your soul of snow Sees that mine is white.

Let my heart not break Till I kill my sin; Bid me for your sake Fight the world — and win!

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XXVIII · Helen Hay Whitney · Poetry Cove