One's not a man, one's not a woman grown To bear enormous business all alone.
One cannot walk this winding street with pride Straight-shouldered, tranquil-eyed, Knowing one knows for sure the way back home. One wonders if one has a home.
One is not certain if or why or how. One wants a Teller now:
Put on your rubbers and you won't catch a cold Here's hell, there's heaven. Go to Sunday School Be patient, time brings all good things--(and cool Stong balm to calm the burning at the brain?) Behold, Love's true, and triumphs; and God's actual.
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