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skies they were ashen and sober
all those treasures that lie
very well, you liberals
i shall see a star tonight
sing again the song you sung
gone are the three, those sisters rare
a storm is riding on the tide
this ancient silver bowl of mine
awful truths these be
and my name is truthful
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes

 



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