| Ahh, Dance through the cold shadows of Pan
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| as tears fall from heaven…
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| once I had hold the rarest rose,
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| But, that is now forgotten with time…
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| Among the tree’s I wandered,
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| To feel the embrace of etemal eclipse
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| as my candle bums out,
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| -And we must make the myths…
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| Dark is the moon at harvest,
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| the nightly mist approaches
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| through the forlorned marshes,
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| -Then darkness has now been achieved…
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| «Crush your earthly virtnes,
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| As I stumbled through snow and frost
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| my feeble heart is longing for the wood,
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| where all dark cast a shadow…»
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| It’s pale morrow landscape,
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| Has now risen through the bleak night
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| over the moors and mountains,
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| Flies the hunting ravens…, searching,
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| Dance through the cold shadows of Pan,
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| As tears fall from heaven,
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| Then, once I had hold the rarest rose…
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| Frozen is my pagan heart,
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| And once again the dawn is here
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| hear the sound of silence,
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| In these trees…
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| Are my gallows… |