8


DO NOT STAND before my window with those hungry eyes and beg for my secret. It is but a tiny stone of glistening pain streaked with blood-red by passion.

        What gifts have you brought in both hands to fling before me in the dust?

        I fear, if I accept, to create a debt that can never be paid even by the loss of all I have.

        Do not stand before my window with your youth and flowers to sham my destitute life.

 

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