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Now a conundrum Love propounds my heart:
You with himself my Love confounds with perfect art.
Until I swear I cannot tell you two apart.

One year ago too well I knew dissimilarity
between my foolish Love and you. What charity
from you, or Love, made up my Love’s disparity?

Into your image now my Love has grown your size,
and even every feature like. I own surprise
to meet, when I meet you - or Love - your eyes.

Nor does an eyelash differ; nor a hair but’s shaped exactly
to you I love, and warns me to beware my dubious security,
sure of my love, and Love; uncertain of identity.

But poor Love’s imitation’s made him mute in his perfection.
Announced to you, upon your most minute inspection
you’d think but that you met your own reflection.

Such curious Love, in constant innocence, though ill at lease,
Admits, between you and himself, no difference and no degrees …
I sometimes pride me onLove’s limitations, they being these.

Elizabeth Bishop

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Thomas Oboe Lee Cambridge, Massachusetts

Thomas Oboe Lee was born in China in 1945. He lived in São Paulo, Brazil, for six years before coming to the United States in 1966. After graduating from the University of Pittsburgh, he studied composition at the New England Conservatory and Harvard University. He has been a member of the music faculty at Boston College since 1990. ... more

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