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.

-THE END-
Edgar Allan Poe's poem: To -- [I HEED not that my earthly lot]

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