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i stood
with lips blood red and heart of stone
let us express our baser passions
melancholy, blue it was
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
long ago, in the young moonlight
i am in love with high far-seeing places
if i should die, think only this of me
i said, i have shut my heart
the pale day drowses on the western steep
in all things not spoken of
the darkness

 



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