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Oh, what was it he meant
By his question as he went?Thy lovely face was never meant
To be the shoar of discontent.Then take it kindly, as 'twas meant,
And let the giver live,
Who with it would the world have sentRemote and yet distinct the scent,
The sole thing of the kind,
As though one spoke a word half meantShe's only a flower of the pavement;
With Paris and Spring in her eyes;
Yet I who foresaw what the grave meantHonor and faith and a sure intent
But a fool must follow his natural bent
(And it wasn't the least what the lady meant),Over the mirrors meant
To glass the opulent
The sea-worm crawls -- grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent.Willy stood up like a man, and look'd the thing that he meant;
Jenny, the viper, made me a mocking courtesy and went.The so-long-predestined raiment
Clothed in which to walk his way meantOf more than what she meant
Would urge an end of everything,
He stayed; and when he went,To say again what he had meant;
And what was hanging from a beam
Would not have heeded where she went.Yet, perchance, if you should journey down the very track you went
In a month or two at furthest, you would wonder what it meant;understand.
He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really
make out what he meant?You do not understand? I meant
They will not talk to you in scent.I gazed and listened, all intent,
As to the face and voice of Fate,
But what they said, or what they meant,Of citizens took him away; they meant
Well, but I think there was some mistake.
He just pottered round in his garden, bentSighs, tears, and oaths, and letters I have spent.
Yet no more can be due to me,
Than at the bargain made was meant;What all the blasted cosmic show meant,
I've never tried to understand;Disinterested Burgum never meant
To take my knowledge for his gain per cent.Forget not yet the tried intent
Of such a truth as I have meant;