| A clouded dream on an earthly night
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| Hangs upon the crescent moon
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| A voiceless song in an ageless light
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| Sings at the coming dawn
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| Birds in flight are calling there
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| Where the heart moves the stones
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| It’s there that my heart is longing
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| All for the love of you
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| A painting hangs on an ivy wall
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| Nestled in the emerald moss
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| The eyes declare a truce of trust
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| Then it draws me far away
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| Where deep in the desert twilight
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| Sand melts in pools of the sky
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| Darkness lays her crimson cloak
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| Your lamps will call me home
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| And so it’s there my homage’s due
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| Clutched by the still of the night
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| Now I feel you move
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| And every breath is full
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| So it’s there my homage’s due
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| Clutched by the still of the night
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| Even the distance feels so near
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| All for the love of you
|
| A clouded dream on an earthly night
|
| Hangs upon the crescent moon
|
| A voiceless song in an ageless light
|
| Sings at the coming dawn
|
| Birds in flight are calling there
|
| Where the heart moves the stones
|
| It’s there that my heart is longing
|
| All for the love of you
|
| A farmer there lived in the north country
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| a hey ho bonny o
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| And he had daughters one, two, three
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| The swans swim so bonny o
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| These daughters they walked by the river’s brim
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| a hey ho bonny o
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| The eldest pushed the youngest in
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| The swans swim so bonny o
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| Oh sister, oh sister, pray lend me your hand
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| with a hey ho a bonny o
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| And I will give you house and land
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| the swans swim so bonny o
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| I’ll give you neither hand nor glove
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| with a hey ho a bonny o
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| Unless you give me your own true love
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| the swans swim so bonny o
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| Sometimes she sank, sometimes she swam
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| with a hey ho and a bonny o
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| Until she came to a miller’s dam
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| the swans swim so bonny o
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| The miller’s daughter, dressed in red
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| with a hey ho and a bonny o
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| She went for some water to make some bread
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| the swans swim so bonny o
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| Oh father, oh daddy, here swims a swan
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| with a hey ho and a bonny o
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| It’s very like a gentle woman
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| the swans swim so bonny o
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| They placed her on the bank to dry
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| with a hey ho and a bonny o
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| There came a harper passing by
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| the swans swim so bonny o
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| He made harp pins of her fingers fair
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| with a hey ho and a bonny o
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| He made harp strings of her golden hair
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| the swans swim so bonny o
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| He made a harp of her breast bone
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| with a hey ho and a bonny o
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| And straight it began to play alone
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| the swans swim so bonny o
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| He brought it to her father’s hall
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| with a hey ho and a bonny o
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| And there was the court, assembled all
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| the swans swim so bonny o
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| He laid the harp upon a stone
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| with a hey ho and a bonny o
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| And straight it began to play lone
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| the swans swim so bonny o
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| And there does sit my father the King
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| with a hey ho and a bonny o
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| And yonder sits my mother the Queen
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| the swans swim so bonny o
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| And there does sit my brother Hugh
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| with a hey ho and a bonny o
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| And by him William, sweet and true
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| the swans swim so bonny o
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| And there does sit my false sister, Anne
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| with a hey ho and a bonny o
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| Who drowned me for the sake of a man
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| the swans swim so bonny o
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| Upon a darkened night
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| the flame of love was burning in my breast
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| And by a lantern bright
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| I fled my house while all in quiet rest
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| Shrouded by the night
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| and by the secret stair I quickly fled
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| The veil concealed my eyes
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| while all within lay quiet as the dead
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| Oh night thou was my guide
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| oh night more loving than the rising sun
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| Oh night that joined the lover
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| to the beloved one
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| transforming each of them into the other
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| Upon that misty night
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| in secrecy, beyond such mortal sight
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| Without a guide or light
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| than that which burned so deeply in my heart
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| That fire t’was led me on
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| and shone more bright than of the midday sun
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| To where he waited still
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| it was a place where no one else could come
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| Within my pounding heart
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| which kept itself entirely for him
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| He fell into his sleep
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| beneath the cedars all my love I gave
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| And by the fortress walls
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| the wind would brush his hair against his brow
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| And with its smoothest hand
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| caressed my every sense it would allow
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| I lost myself to him
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| and laid my face upon my lovers breast
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| And care and grief grew dim
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| as in the mornings mist became the light
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| There they dimmed amongst the lilies fair
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| There they dimmed amongst the lilies fair |
| There they dimmed amongst the lilies fair
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| They’re gathered in circles
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| the lamps light their faces
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| The crescent moon rocks in the sky
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| The poets of drumming
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| keep heartbeats suspended
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| The smoke swirls up and then dies
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| Would you like my mask?
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| would you like my mirror?
|
| cries the man in the shadowing hood
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| You can look at yourself
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| you can look at each other
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| or you can look at the face, the face of your god
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| The stories are woven
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| and fortunes are told
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| The truth is measured by the weight of your gold
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| The magic lies scattered
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| on rugs on the ground
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| Faith is conjured in the night market’s sound
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| Would you like my mask?
|
| would you like my mirror?
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| cries the man in the shadowing hood
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| You can look at yourself
|
| you can look at each other
|
| or you can look at the face, the face of your god
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| The lessons are written
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| on parchments of paper
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| They’re carried by horse from the river Nile
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| says the shadowy voice
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| In the firelight, the cobra
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| is casting the flame a winsome smile
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| Would you like my mask?
|
| would you like my mirror?
|
| cries the man in the shadowing hood
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| You can look at yourself
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| you can look at each other
|
| or you can look at the face, the face of your god
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| Stars were falling deep in the darkness
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| as prayers rose softly, petals at dawn
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| And as I listened, your voice seemed so clear
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| so calmly you were calling your god
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| Somewhere the sun rose, o’er dunes in the desert
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| such was the stillness, I ne’er felt before
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| Was this the wuestion, pulling, pulling, pulling you
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| in your heart, in your soul, did you find peace there?
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| Elsewhere a snowfall, the first in the winter
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| covered the ground as the bells filled the air
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| You in your robes sang, calling, calling, calling him
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| in your heart, in your soul, did you find peace there?
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| in your heart, in your soul, did you find peace there?
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| Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,
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| The holy tree is growing there;
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| From joy the holy branches start,
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| And al the trembling flowers they bear.
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| The changing colours of its fruit
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| Have dowered the stars with merry light;
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| The surety of its hidden root
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| Has planted quiet in the night;
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| The shaking of its leafy head
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| Has given the waves their melody,
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| And made my lips and music wed,
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| Murmuring a wizard song for thee.
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| There the Loves a circle go,
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| The flaming circle of our days,
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| Gyring, spiring to and fro
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| In those great ignorant leafy ways;
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| Remembering all that shaken hair
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| And how the winged sandals dart,
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| Thine eyes grow full of tender care;
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| Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.
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| Gaze no more in the bitter glass
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| The demons, with their subtle guile,
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| Lift up before us when they pass,
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| Or only gaze a little while;
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| For there a fatal image grows
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| That the stormy night receives,
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| Roots half hidden under snows,
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| Broken boughs and blackened leaves.
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| For all things turn to barenness
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| In the dim glass the demons hold,
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| The glass of outer weariness,
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| Made when God slept in times of old.
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| There, through the broken branches, go
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| The ravens of unresting thought;
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| Flying, crying, to and fro,
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| Cruel claw and hungry throat,
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| Or else they stand and stiff the wind,
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| And shake their ragged wings: alas!
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| Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:
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| Gaze no more in the bitter glass.
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| Beloved, gaze in thine own heart
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| The holy tree is growing there;
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| From joy the holy branches start,
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| And all the trembling flowers they bear.
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| Remembering all that shaken hair
|
| And how the winged sandals dart,
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| Thine eyes grow full of tender care:
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| Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.
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| Now my charms are all o’erthrown,
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| And what strength I have’s mine own;
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| Which is most faint; |
| now t’is true,
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| I must here be confined by you,
|
| Or sent to Napels. |
| Let me not,
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| Since I have my dukedom got
|
| And pardoned the deceiver, dwell
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| In this bar island by your spell;
|
| But release me from my bands
|
| With the help of your good hands.
|
| Gentle breath of yours my sails
|
| Must fill, or else my project fails,
|
| Which was to please. |
| Now I want
|
| Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;
|
| And my ending is despair,
|
| Unless I be relieved by prayer,
|
| Which pierces so that it assaults
|
| Mercy itself and frees all faults.
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| As you from your crimes would pardon’d be, |
| Let your indulgence set me free. |