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How often I have hid behind these walls
And watched those in the sunlight grin and bask,
When no more I desired or dared to ask
Than invitation out of these plain halls:
To run beneath the drizzle as it falls,
To set aside my every thankless task
Of drab reality, to join their masque
And hear my name among their blissful calls.

At night they trudge in from their tiring day,
Wet, panting, smiling from their playful roles;
They envy me, so rested and so dry;
And as they sleep beneath the skies now gray,
I, weary not of body but of soul,
Must watch the clock, and hear each second fly.

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