ToE. G., Dedicating a Book

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To E. G., Dedicating a Book

A broken tale of endless things,

Take, lady: thou art not of those

Who in what vale a fountain springs

Would have its journey close.

Countless beginnings, fair first parts,

Leap to the light, and shining flow;

All broken things, or toys or hearts,

Are mended where they go.

Then down thy stream, with hope-filled sail,

Float faithful fearless on, loved friend;

’Tis God that has begun the tale

And does not mean to end.