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231 A dumb dull longing for [[strikethrough]] what cannot tell we know not what [[/strikethrough]] something unknown Perchance an angle on its way left there a smart Or some sole ^[[all heedless]] touched my own. [[line]] Theres something at the bottom of my heart A dumb longing for a great unknown Perchance an angle touched a hidden part Or some soul all heedless scarred my own. [[line]] [[end page]] [[start page]] 232 [[underlined]] December 2d 1895. [[/underlined]] I was born not quite a year ago by actual day & months. On the 8th of December 1894. As an infant I was backward. It was a rainy day & I was born in the evening. I was the healthiest infant and probably yelled aloud and I was the happiest child & yet I hadn't much to live on. They almost starved me & once I came near deaths door, but my constitution was far too strong to be so easily killed, I recovered & at the slightest morsel of food grew lustily. I was a silent child seldom talking my thoughts to anybody, perhaps
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