_Dear! Is the distance vast? I cross it here. The chasm fathomless? I span it thus. The silence dread? I break it. What is fear? When only our own hearts can sever us._ _The gold and frankincense I should have given, Envy the myrrh I lay within your hand; Dearer to me than fame of earth or heaven It is, to know that you will understand._…
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