To the Not Impossible Him

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

　　

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How shall I know, unless I go To Cairo and Cathay, Whether or not this blessed spot Is blest in every way? Now it may be, the flower for me Is this beneath my nose; How shall I tell, unless I smell The Carthaginian rose? The fabric of my faithful love No power shall dim or ravel Whilst I stay here,—but oh, my dear, If I should ever travel!

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