Oh—did I offend it—Didn’t want me to tell it the truth Daisy—Daisy—offend it—who bends her smaller life to his [it’s] meeker [lower] every day—who only asks—a task who something to do for love of it—some little way she cannot guess to make that master glad.
A love so big it scares her, rushing among her small heart—pushing aside the blood—and leaving her [all] faint and white in the gust’s arm-
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