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Little Lover

You made your little lover kind,
And quick of word and kiss and tear,
And everything a woman craves;
You could not make him big, my dear.

And so you made your great self small,
As only a great woman can,
Nor cared a jot; but ah, he knew
And cared a lot, the little man.

He knew and hated you at last.
Let me be fair! He left you then.
That one big generous thing he did:
Left you to grieve to heights again.

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