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leave the lovely words unsaid
come down at dawn from windless hills
the darkness
beautiful, tragical faces
high-born race
all within and all without me
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
daughter, thou art come to die
what do i owe to you
the darkness rolls upward
there is a city, builded by no hand
they may talk of love in a cottage
birds against the april wind
musing, between the sunset and the dark

 



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