Mention488771

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so:text We weep before the Blessed Mother's shrine, To think upon her sorrows, but her joys What nun could ever know a tithing of? The precious hours she watched above His sleep Were worth the fearful anguish of the end. Yea, lack of love is bitterest of all. (en)
so:isPartOf https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Sara_Teasdale
so:description Helen of Troy and Other Poems (1911) (en)
qkg:hasContext qkg:Context241140
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