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When all was done the god of love was fate,
Where all was love. And this was in a darkness
Where time was always dying and never dead,
And where God’s face was never to be seen
To tell the few that were to lose the world
For love how much or little they lost for it,
Or paid with others’ pain.

He murmured, as if strugglin“Isolt! Isolt!”
He murmured, as if struggling to believe
That one name, and one face there in the twilight,
Might for a moment, or a moment longer,
Defeat oblivion. How could she be with him
When there were all those western leagues of twilight
Between him and Cornwall? She was not there
Until she spoke:

And there was a wh“Tristram!” was all she said;
And there was a whole woman in the sound
Of one word surely spoken. She was there,
Be Cornwall where it was or never was,
And England all a shadow on the sea
That was another shadow, and on time

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