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Compensation
by:
Ralph Waldo Emerson
(1803-1882)
Why should I keep
holiday
When other men have none?
Why but because, when these are gay,
I sit and mourn alone?
And why, when mirth unseals all tongues,
Should mine alone be dumb?
Ah! late I spoke to silent throngs,
And now their hour is come.
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poems by Ralph Waldo Emerson