<h2>IX</h2>
<p>Can it be right to give what I can give?<br/>
To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears<br/>
As salt as mine, and hear the sighing years<br/>
Re-sighing on my lips renunciative<br/>
Through those infrequent smiles which fail to live<br/>
For all thy adjurations? O my fears,<br/>
That this can scarce be right! We are not peers<br/>
So to be lovers; and I own, and grieve,<br/>
That givers of such gifts as mine are, must<br/>
Be counted with the ungenerous. Out, alas!<br/>
I will not soil thy purple with my dust,<br/>
Nor breathe my poison on thy Venice-glass,<br/>
Nor give thee any love—which were unjust.<br/>
Beloved, I only love thee! let it pass.</p>
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