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What shall I do—it whimpers so
This little Hound within the Heart
All day and night with bark and start
And yet, it will not go
Would you untie it, were you me
Would it stop whining—if to Thee
I sent it—even now?

It should not tease you
By your chair—or, on the mat
Or if it dare—to climb your dizzy knee
Or—sometimes at your side to run
When you were willing
Shall it come?
Tell Carlo
He'll tell me!