Two Lives

Two Lives, one sweet and one most sad, I lead;
   Two lives—and one is joy, the other woe;
Two lives—one very dear, one loathed indeed;
   Two lives are mine that far asunder flow.
In one I live, in one I do but die;
   In one I am, and in the other seem;
In one I smile, in one I do but sigh;
   In one I toil, and in the other dream.
One life is strange and full of hot red days,
   Strong love, that checked at naught, wild hope, mad sin;
But in the other there are beaten ways
   I traverse steadfastly nor fail therein.
Yet sometimes wonder, as the long months pass,
   That what I am has e'er been what I was.

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