Uncut Copy, An
When I was young I sent my friend a copy of “My Verses,”
And when he died he left his books to me, dear to his heart.
To-day I looked them over all, and find—ten thousand curses!—
My book is there, and no two leaves have e'er been cut apart.
And when he died he left his books to me, dear to his heart.
To-day I looked them over all, and find—ten thousand curses!—
My book is there, and no two leaves have e'er been cut apart.
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