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rocked in the cradle of the deep
these hearts were woven of human joys and cares
i love to steal awhile away
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
before the solemn bronze saint
over the river, on the hill
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
the darkness
at midnight
what shall we do now
city that is not a city
i think it just splendid
a very remarkable history this is
to the passionate lover

 



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