.
What love is this, that surrounds me
That demands and pleads with me to behave
With care to careless love, and wants me
To save them first, and once again to save?
My voice has soothed thee, warned thy fears away
My hands perform thy large and tiny tasks
My spirit has encircled thee, from day to day
And though it dulls from care, care thou still asks.
The cares thou have, thou have not: they are mine.
Still pleadest thou for care, but where is thine?
--Ann T. Hathaway
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