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A collection of Edgar Allan Poe’s poetry.

Page 43 of 101
Table of Contents

To ⸻

“I Heed Not That My Earthly Lot”

I heed not that my earthly lot Hath⁠—little of Earth in it⁠— That years of love have been forgot In the hatred of a minute:⁠— I mourn not that the desolate Are happier, sweet, than I, But that you sorrow for my fate Who am a passer-by.

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