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The True Knowledge by Oscar Wilde

Thou knowest all; I seek in vain

What lands to till or sow with seed -

The land is black with briar and weed,

Nor cares for falling tears or rain.



Thou knowest all; I sit and wait

With blinded eyes and hands that fail,

Till the last lifting of the veil

And the first opening of the gate.



Thou knowest all; I cannot see.

I trust I shall not live in vain,

I know that we shall meet again

In some divine eternity.

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