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The Deserter

I know not why or whence he came
  Or how he chanced to go;
I only know he brought me love,
  And going, left me woe.

I do not ask that he turn back
  Nor seek where he may rove,
For where woe rules can never be
  The dwelling place of love.

For love went out the door of hope
  And on and on has fled,
Caring no more to dwell within
  The house where faith is dead.

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